using my own
vital force
and energy
to help make
others happy.
o this
ones viral
a curse
illness omen.
and inevitably
IT FEELS SO ****** GOOD!
in a crueltomyself sense
making myself less so that
<x> feel here
feels happy
about their existence
via my action.
well--
love's oven is warm.

it is sometimes
o.k.
to feel guilty
for
not feeling so.
∞
here i mean as i folded clothes from my laundry that theres a guilt now days i feel when not feeling the guilt im supposed to feel and no i personally do not prefer "wise" or whatever poetry but it came and the rest of the words were broken in the wind. anyways, i wrote this and the title refers to a praxis of mine to clearly identify my ambitions and thus accept that i have these be they fueled from "personal self" or "society" (thats you, kid!) or otherwise and thence leave them all and be a life lived with no ambition- in fact apparently such is the way to be rid of addictions - addiction in case you've guessed by now have little to do with drugs, in fact its any self-soothing behavior that is done as a protest of acknowledging and being with a sort of fuzze pain that we may or even may not be conscious of and thus our actions to bless away this amorphousity is through this or that action perhaps being a proud teetotaller and thus getting drunk on virtue or not smoking cannabis but getting high on fasting or not ******* but getting ****** up on miserliness it is all almost infinite and a never end and thus live live live with no why heyhoheyhey

Ah no money
and the bill has come - roosting.  

I contemplate suicide,
and other deluded pains;

much rather that than
sell my art for money;

how does one even begin-
to ask for money for a gift;

from all Nature unbidding,
for Art that is Art is

Not made by you - we
forget that this is all a chance,

luck fits better - perhaps -
and yet the morrow begins,

and i ope my eyes again;
the world - Still Burning.

and my heart - full;
not if only I could figure something out for the wallet!

i am too,
so much blood,
on these nails.

My tears
arent enough--
not ever.

in all these nights;
blood spilling left right--
and we are all
just kept dragging delusionally.

Yes
this
changes
now.

deja vu
a lot now days.
hungry,
and waiting to eat!
HERE, NOW!
a feasting i-go.
chose the former,
and that made
all the difference
in the world.
(DIDJA JUST QUOTE FROST FOR YOUR BREAKFAST CHOICE? YA DARNNED RASCAL! (heh!))

Hi [>>>], i guess i wouldnt fit in typical roles either! though i will surely at some time within 72 hours check the link you've sent, im asking if theres any possibility of a patronship (not in the sense of "MOOCHING".)- with the beautiful balance of diving deeper into the "dark" (as a dark skinned individual i take offence with "employers" talking about darkness and unsupposed "positivity"!) sides of the collective unconscious and literally just having enough.  rather --/ how about a lot/ of us / learn how to shut UP! that seems to/ be about/ it./ (no i mean to ask if theres any position of/ "menial" help at the cheapest labour with no/ publication (yes i realise that matters at where/[eegads still got some training with alcohol to do!] is in regards to "global"/recognition.../so/that i may do me with some funding so i/ get/to/direct a feww v.v.v. low budget movies?)-/from a death meditation last few days-/a movie that/cele-brates (as in vibration? (thanks [K.]and [R.]!))/the beauty of /"supphfocation"/as in-/celebrating the womb./anyways just send-/ing,/this is pretty o.k. for/Now./[Theo] p.s. I would love to hear what y'all thought of my blogspot project from months back!

Oh

so much adultery;
tobacco, chocolate, coffee, ***** (SHROOMS!!)--

Yes.

Oh so many lovers,
no care for-
G-END'er;

oh my holes and my letting--
blood no less;

STRIP
off mewings and then!

** hey!

now come again,
come come c-
OM--
again!

this intoxicant as
LOVERS!--
amidst a distant revel rumble rustling roots rather resting really --

dadumpdadumpdadumpdadump!

OVER-
stimulated;

o-
come of it
yer

JUST

a ***** and no no no no!-
no more.

yes,
intoxicated and rather--

(whats that word again? (you're just trying to impress you know it!(hey dont scold him!) - im not just pointing out that hes being flamboyant!(well leave 'im Be!) ; sigh) right! remembered!)-

reveling.

How I Used My Nightmares to Become Rich and Famous
-
Well,
there was

this first one:
that i am stupid.

used that to
change my behavior; NOW-

I AM STUPID!
then, another:

guilt & shame for wanting to copulate
with all and every one;

used that to the
gentle way and came back

with
I am pink. Heaven and Hell are equally repulsive

to me!
love and love and love-

which i took to mean
SAVE EVERYONE,

anyone who cares and comes into my life
IS SOMEONE I HAVE TO SAVE;

oh bother!
so broke off a lot of ties-

those in which i was a savior - talk about BORING!;
and these others

where i became
the common denominator

and why?
so that id fit in.

and why?
because i was scared and lonely.

and why?
because its easiest to fit in and numb oneself.

and why?
well I'm a little bit of a RASCAL too!

and of course
the nightmare of POVERTY!

and of being FAMOUS
with the ability to sway one others life trajectory--

GAVE IT UP!
traveled amongst those on the belowpovertyline

slept on streets,
floors of trains,

meditated in toilets and latrines,
overlookong, rather!

and generally work with disgust and grimaces!
the other?

MADE MYSELF REPULSIVE TO ALL THOSE
WHO WOULD'VE BENEFITED

AND CHANGED THEIR BEHAVIOR
HAD I "MADEIT" (hah! flipp that doodle!);

and of course lastly,
torture-

opened myself so much,
became so in tune with expressing myself,

that i was in hell, well Sartres anyways-
always standing out;

and realised a concomitant fear-
standing out makes one conjure up scenes

in min,
where torture is very possible.

that one, bless the Divines,
helped me see how armored and sheltered i remain

always
in perpetuity.

AND THATS THE STORY FOLX
OF USING MY NIGHTMARES
TO BECOME RICH (a mindset not a bank balance!)
AND FAMOUS (being known past ALL the layers to the core of that which is probably mostly with ALL!)!

ha!

Last night-
wailing. Sobbing so deep,

It was dry, after a while.

they wrote a good poem,
they were acknowledged, approved, SEEN-
** my lonely, broke heart;
you yet have me.
ah and the other me too--
This one, that spites and spews and vitriols as lovers often
are wont to do.
ah my love,
yes, come,
CLOSE (
and no that was a whisper not
A SHOUT! (THAT WAS THOUGH!))
so close,
that -
drop, drop,
sssssssss,
the whistle
wouldnt budge
and it is time,
to find love ANEW now,
and begin
this new life of ours.

All that is, is
This as-is;
Metaphor.
Or-
Awoke, and
wondered about
smoking,
did.
then, Hopped on a flight
to make money-
also true.
Over a while,
pondered emptiness
on a mountaintop-
SNOWCLAD COLD VISION PEAK-
discovered truth, was
true.
Then, dropped a cup of milk,
the honey missed more than dairy;
Oh-
oh oh oh
oh.
None not even one not even this
this - is true.
is not true.
this is a dream.
& as in a dream
Stuff(!) keeps on
Happening.

Just now

lost Kichi--

my girlfriend

panicked &

FREAKED out.

i did not;

alas i

felt as a scoundrel!

a no-good!

WHODOESNOTPANICGODDAMNIT

&

ialwaysknewyoydidntcareyoupsychopathnarcissist.

then walked

a slow

up the

roads ahead--

she with

a new pack of three.

i said

i am not proud enough

to say i will care for Kichi

more than these three of her own kind.

well, anyways-

wind and breeze.

green trees and

WATCHING A LOT OF HUMAN CHILDBIRTH VIDEOS.

matter, mud, mother, mutter-
feces.
Anyways,
we keep getting reborn
'vryday we wake up,
and get bogged by
DREAM-
then by time
we
SLEEP-
we forget
forgetting
we fly-
well some of us anyways;
just-a-dream or something!-
and then,
awake,
brush,
coffee,
sit,
eat,
sit,
and on & on
till
(AD-)
nausea
or
(perhaps(!) sadder-) infinity.

Nah-
this is better.
i dont anyways know
what poetry is- Reminds me!
i should probably start reading some-
theres that line of re inventing wheels--

i don't know
where you went
all these
dusty kalpas.
have we always been as-
This?
I can never know you-
Truly, truly- Mu.
I mean, No.
That is the answer- it would appear so.
Time relents on,
ticking by- ticking by- tick-
YES I checked Kichi, she has none,
Goddess bless!
Anyway, where were we?
You slip past and by-
Gone, Again.
June Jordan said-
Some of Us did not Die.
you- I trust, shall never. No,
as in-
Music for Zen Meditation and Other Joys, 1964, Tokyo.
Yes- I remember!
i, transported elsewhere
altogether.
searching, seeking, seeking
for that blessed,
Goddess-Given
flute.
Ah my Dear,
I hurt at you hurting so.
Time, and again-
Coyote in the Zendo!
Take your time, dearest,
you whisper,
do not grow into bones
that these owls fain
for us to break.  
Take your time,
my Love-
Rest and Relax - O! yes,
do, do!
Where, dearest, shall we
run to, next- Here-
NowHere-
I
HOWL-
ing all the way!
Lunar Meanders
and Spreading the Light of
Darkness-
I open to thee,
Darkness. guide us-
we have need for Poison.
Ah, not always- I am rambling again.
i remember a time,
when you were carrying me in
your tender embrace ,
caressing me
with
A Guide to Fearlessness,
yes- I do not-
know-
and I am nobody too -
Our best ever friend,
Emily the one and True.
We see you, yes,
yes we do.
Ah! not always-
so, there I was,
sitting down, finally.
feeling the separate
dissolve for a split-
ah there I go,
rambling.
anyways, I don't know where I was going with this-
What IS this?
THIS-
is it.
Almost down to the last second now.
Bittersweet learning, guiding with a most
kind hand.
Love, thrown about so strewlessly,
that's not a word, dearest,
you whisper-
neither is any language
to befit a marvelous miracle as
You.
Bah! Poetry!
who needs that when-
She said, No, there is
is
need for poetry.
And i, my dearest
held back a deep tear-
Drama Queen,
hah!
all that is, is metaphor.
yes!
there is only

For Dr. Jabir & Quantum Tantra
±
Every touch is her touch,
Every glance her spell.
Every smell her scent,
And every sound her whisper.
Sometimes hot, hot, hot-
Others cold;
Every flavor her taste,
And all the stories
her folds.
Every greetings her form,
And behind it-
the mirror showing her
In true - eternal un-ground.
Yes, every second- her own beat,
And every undulation:
Her wrath, fury.
O- Dame Nature,
I ain't no ******-
And i - am a-hooked
On you.

of This World, Not a single mote of dust exists, neither the peaks of Kilimanjaro - not this moment, not this breath, Not the beat of a drum, nor even eternity, and neither blood.

Our Mother
Whose name is of Art,
praise to thy beauty,
that drives the Beat of our Hearts.
give us
Our nights
of Divine Passion,
& bless us - so that
we may never shy
from the
Absolute comfort of
Solitude.
Lead us
to the persistence
of Folly &
the Destruction
of Slavery.
For thine
is the love, &
    the mercy, &
    the grace
and the Wild yearning.
Forever,
And Ever More.

I-
I am insanely insecure.
I have trouble speaking up &saying what i need to say.
I blame my lover for deep wounds within me. I do no work and blame any one who gets close enough to know that within i am actually a really thoughtful and caring and tender person.
I use all this knowledge to bolster my sense of self.
I use all these weapons to put everyone at a distance.
I am the reason those around me a uncomfortable.
I am a liar. I am fraud. I am horrible human being.
I understand this at the deepest level of myself. I whisper these words to myself whenever i am alone. Whenever i am in the dark.
So that when i awake i have to fear what i truly am. Who i really am.
And who am i?
I am weak. I am insecure. I am a jealous beast.
I am Snow White's step mother.
I am Adolf ******.
I am everyone who has everyone done evil to torture and harm humans animals plants.
I am the fear that behaves in such a way that i will never realise that i am horrible.
I am horrible. I am terrible.
I am just me.
AND
i am not i
i am a
dream.

Brownian motion;
o - you oaf!- just say-
the silliness of a mess of ants.

just let out a really long ****.

today I've decided to cut ties with parents & bro.

oh you know! this means extended family too!

woohoo! well, yes, yes, i hear ya- what about dolladolladolladolla bills?

** hey! yes that too there be and slowslowslow slowly!

and now i take a deep breath.

ten thousand days i have spent in that fire.

always blames myself - o yea--

thats 27 years by THE WAY!-

kichi growls at bhavana- she herself gave her the foodo.

and now a fresh morning.

and here a new story unfolds.

oh guilt oh shame- ye've loved me so!

thank ye for keeping ke warm and pointing to me.

pointing where home is no longer home.

but a collection of ******* fatcats waiting for their

MOREMOREMOREMOREMORE.

and yes, we do come from a rich family- allthebetter;

i would say- yes!

and further- hey thats me!- this is it-!-

that i stand my own. thanks for all the--

I am lucky.
I am luck.
I am loved.
I am love.

I am joy.
I am joyful.

I am laughter.
I love to laugh.

I am grateful.
I am Alive.
I am Dead.

I am blessed.
I am a blessing.

I am Enough.
I do Enough.
I give Enough.
I have Enough.

I love to dance,
I dance to live,
I live to love,
I love to bless,
I bless to laugh,
I laugh to love.

I am lucky for this Universe that I have been blessed with.

That this morning we wake up.
And you give us a small ray.
That we keep in our pockets -
throughout this year, this week, this day.
And that when we expect it least,
The ray slips out
Onto those who need it most.

Taking each breath
You now see
What the eyes will never show,
There - a smile,
Here - a year;
clearing out a space,
for yourself-
Lighting the bonfire, heating the hearth-
Light it and
Wait,
Breathe-
And pass the warmth, the glow
to the withered eye, bones and souls,
seeking refuge
under the mighty toll of
The Great Turn.
Hey-**!

The Dragon’s Gate is the gate to liberation. It is a door to freedom, and it is guarded by a dragon.

dont
didnt
dont feel like
writing today.
pointless.
and more,
why?
thus wrote today.
and that was
NOT
my day.

One left that way,
another tried - in vain.

All, always, in fact,
tragedies- after the fact.

not when it was happening.
never- no.

When the world turns the blind eye,
and further, lacks competence to care;

How is any one really,
to blame- that is how,

it must be said,
that is how this culture fell asleep nights.

Tears after they leave,
and while here-

and simply trying to not
bomb the world,

bomb another bed,
bomb another baby,

bomb another forest,
progress! - that is what

this culture sacrificed it's children for.
so as I-

all but given up the
Courageous loving that

life itself requires
in times of crisis;

as I tried to keep quiet,
the final nail struck the coffin.

finally, it is clear to see-
how hope, love, peace, trust

is bombed from the hearts
of those who truly

wish none but to live life
true to themselves,

true to life itself-
not a mask,

not another rigmarole.
not this, either.

so as the hammer struck the nail final,
the tears too dry now to drop

any more, I touched the heart and soul,
of each fallen kin, taken by

all these nobody's-
"nobody asked you to work there!",

"nobody asked you to attend college there!",
"nobody asked you to put up a pride flag at work!",

"nobody asked you to do drugs!",
"nobody asked you to go crazy!",

"nobody asked you to sit late with him-
it is your fault you were *****.".

ah. a lot of nobody's
in my company.

and as my mind ran circles over circles,
and I contemplate

the pill, the rope,
the wrist, or the fall-

it occurs to me.
No.

I shall not.
no, no, no- not for myself-

that you've taken from me,
at the age of eight.

no-
this one, for the ones who said yes.

all my friends and family-
pushed into corners- what for?

for
nobody.

They were kept
subdued

numbed emaciated-
through achievements trophies appearances and

being someone to be bragged about
by someone elses mouth

being someone to show off about
proud to be a

responsible consumer and number;
those who broke free

labelled witches, crazies--
thats what they did

they kept all the humans
in a trance a daze

so that they could fall asleep
knowing that somewhere

beds were bombed
and babies mutilated.

thats how this culture slept nights
pushing each of the vulnerables

the ones who could see
and feel and grieve and not

shut off-- till they died
overwhelmed from the burdens

of family, friends and surviving
on this paradise that we have made

into an ambiguous warzone
where the healers are killed tacitly

and when they die
cry and cry and o cry.

thats how we slept nights
pushing the trembling ones to the brink of

pulling the knife
and once dead

we cry and cry
o what a shame o if only they were still alive.

All things arise from emptiness,
Where does emptiness arise from?

Thus spoke an Ancient Buddha.
I do not understand it, much.

Simply the wheels turning outside -
The pigeons coo, and below the grasses sparkle.

The day turns,
The night as well-

Some something something that
Is not this nothing something.

Why indeed must there be anything,
When just as easy as it for to be nothing-

But philosophising
Is quite unnecessary -

I spent my whole journey
Dancing in front of a mirror:

This one, that is-
All life a reflection of yourself,

All concepts, concepts, concepts-
All the way down - concepts!

Alas- all things do arise from emptiness,
Yet for the life of me-

Pray-
Could I ever understand whereforth emptiness arises from?

On the one hand-
A scream- a shout: MAKE MONEY

On the other one-
Why? What for? Who asks this?

It isn't this simple, it
Really is that simple.

I would to nothing more do,
Than fill pages with thought, lyrics and

Amuse me, amuse you.
Yes, it is true.

I am filled here-
With the space to see how to make-

Yet, neither you nor i,
Truly, do wish to- see-

What it is we could amount
To be-

Leave it aside, brush it now.
What more is to be said,

About the blind poetry-
The blind poetry of-

Be nice
be sweet
dont fight
only smiles
be fake
dont **** especially
**** often
youre worthless
youre trash
behave boy
always behave
dont fight
dont rouse
be quiet
be still
shut up
be good
force goodness
be nice
be sweet
do more
forced humility
behave boy
youre trash
be good
OR ELSE.

It scares me how sure we are of progress;
the hammer beats outside my window.
Not quick to blame any more either,
if not for progress or lack thereof, i wouldnt be here.

in the midst of this paradise,
and then i see a little closer,
myths of discomfort, of overcoming,
and of separations, of the lesser evil.

and then so many good intentions
so many, this many that now
i wonder why im sitting here
not doing something not doing, i mean, something.

perhaps, perhaps because i do not know
what is the right action
when all in the pursuit of progress
ends up creating fiveteen other problems

amidst the torn cloth requiring
just the one stitch and not
so so many more.
oh theres a lot of trash. let us DECORATE with filth.

(bah!) - Poetry,
oh gosh **** it-
BAH!-
how you in-
toxic-
ATE!-
me.
drunk on rhythm,
flirting with rhyme;
the logic beyond one plas one
to-
all sounds,
all beats,
all feelings,
all time-
all, all in tune!
that each and Every-
that is E-V-E!-
beat in tune with the sound of feeling, felt time.
BAH!-
poetry...

In ten days,
the whole bowels,
finally cleared - spring.

Like this
sunrise,
or the other dawn--
so sweet in its
unborn delight
so soon already-- gone --

well, im back
guess i couldnt be held back too long, anyways-
and then

man why the heck am i doing all this?
all of this poetry and this stuff?
and i palpably feel the block too-

feel the feeling that wont allow me
just permit me
to say what i want to

instead of these fancy hininks and
CONCEPTS
to just separate me from a veneer;

always,
always in the
rage and its not even me.

yes
opening to
deep darkness - the holy kind; now-

every day is earth day.
poetry is not a nautch girl of the mind
and it deadens me

to see all the potential here that is
used to just stimulate the paltry faint
prostituting of the Divine Soul of the Poetry.

Im sure some of us know of Hinduism?
yes?
so we must know of Rishis too, may be.

Rishis are the sages,
above those of the Pantheons of the gods goddesses too,
in fact, yes, the holy ones fear rishis.

why am i bringing this up?
rishis have a synonym- listen up y'all,
all of you poets- this is about you-

rishis are called KAVIS
seers
diviners

those who have a acute sense
a sense for what the rest of man dont.
poetry is a magickal act,

that the pen is mightier than the sword
is no excuse not to wield both
with skill and the intent to ****.

Poetry relegated to a nautch girl of the mind,
poets are poets because
NIHILIO HUMANIS ALIENUM

and yes this does seem as sermonising,
perhaps. perhaps,
but perhaps this is in truth a request-

we need poets now more than ever.
what is the role of the rishi?
THE RISHIS CREATE BELIEF SYSTEMS

all religions, listen up y'all - this concerns you-
all religions are a porduct of a  poet,
and the poet who uses skillful means to break through the OBVIOUS and LAZY work;

such as - o muni is another word for
kavi for rishi-
sakyamuni or Buddha? yep,

a poet.
anyways-
ahh with that rant out lets break it down.

i truly desire only to be seen
by my family and my old circle of friends
to truly be seen by you, now- and just be said

hey man, i see what you've been doing
i see how much of yourself youve given
and keep giving

and i know youre actually doing this for me,
and seriously man, who are you?
who cares THIS much to help someone not themselves?

who chooses to voluntarily sacrifice themselves and go crazy
so that we know that theres a whole and consummate
PROBLEM with the way things are now.

mostly man, youre not alone
i love you and i respect what you're doing
and I WILL thank you

not in words,
but rather,
rather by following the trail

the trail of following
the ever ECSTATIC call of my own soul
and yes, i WILL TELL you in words

that i have YOU to thank for
all of this.
sigh, yes, that is all i really wanted to hear.

and be hugged a lot more, consensually;
and joined in my party-making;
that is how i live my life

i need some company
with all this DIVINE MADNESS
ive got spilling left right and all eight other

directions too.
just a few Horizon Anarchists,
high on integrity, on discipline

and especially
on TRANS-THEFUCK-GRESSING
and that we simply, o simply, o o o simply-

Drop Out
Tune In
Drop In.

and why?
because it is only dead myths that cause
cancer in our bloodstreams.

and why?
for through poetry we literally create
universes and realities, and the framework for religions.

and why?
because we must own the power we've been
blessed with and repay the way we got it.

and why?
because the earth
is in desperate need for peace and love.

and why?
because this new republic according to plato
will have no need for poets philosophers and fools and thus they rule with their tyranny.

and why?
because we must not leave the unbroke. threads
left behind by our flaming ancestors die out.

and why?
because we wake up every day, count every breath
and rebirth magic into the very culture that chooses to **** us.

and why?
because we
REAL COOL.

HEYY!
im not a lazy no-good;
in fact quite the flipping opposite!
so why do i have to have a "JOB"?!

i loved the solar medicine,
it did me in discipline of the arts;
but now i ask ye
council of Goddesses--

WHY DO I HAVE TO HAVE A JOB?
why is it such that my existence,
my daily art
and my daily samu

are Insufficient?
why do i need to slave
to simply expand on my anti-library,
my poisons, and my exploration supplies?

AND
another thing!
why wasnt i told earlier
to dedicate an hour weekly to self-pity?!

anyways
thats about
all i can
complain about! Big Love!