Dog Mumbo
lives alone
since his master disappeared
in the corner house
in Suburb Bumbo

Mumbo stands with
his head at the window
paws on the sills
and when Stranger Whoever's
heart is touched
"O that poor thing,
so so sweet"
and comes in to pat the dog
Dog Mumbo invites
Stranger Whoever
to the master's seat
and closes the door;
and when Dog Mumbo turns round
to Stranger Whoever
it's no longer that poor thing,
so so sweet thing
For it goes straight for the heart

And so it lives alone
and feeds itself
same way its Master fed it

And I believe, you discerning reader,
have a name
so remember it well
and do not fancy yourself ever to be
Stranger Whoever

When Adam
first saw God
he said:
Daddy! Daddy!

And God said:
Hey! Stop calling me that!
Don't you get too familiar with me, boy!

Oh, said Adam,
but you created me
so why can't I call you Daddy?

NO! thundered Mighty God.
And that is that!

OK, said Adam.
How about I call you Dr Frankenstein?

See, Nasrudin is standing
on the other side of the river
let’s ask him,
let’s ask
how we can get across

Hey, Nasrudin!
Tell us how we can get
to the other side of the river

But* – replies Nasrudin –
*you are already on the other side of the river!

For one poem I shared here at HP
I got 55 views of which 5 were hearts -
hey, what happened to the 50?
OK, I don't expect all readers
to like the poems I post
so maybe HP -
to give readers a choice -
could introduce other buttons like:

DISLIKE
HATE
DESPISE
F _ _ _
YOU CALL THIS POETRY?
WENT TO SLEEP HALFWAY
DESPICABLE
DID NOT READ BUT I CLICKED LIKE
WORTHY OF BEING PLAGIARIZED


and so  then I might get a better view
of each of my poems, for example:

55 views

5 LIKE
20 F _ _ _
10 DESPICABLE
6 YOU CALL THIS POETRY?
10 DID NOT READ
BUT I CLICKED LIKE
4 WENT TO SLEEP HALFWAY
0 WORTHY OF BEING PLAGIARIZED

My wife’s given me 6 children
and all we’ve known is each other
so I can’t but help feeling a little
that she’s old, so I started calling her
“Mother of 6” instead
of using her name
So at parties and gatherings
I might say: “Alright, Mother of 6 -
time to go”
Or I might introduce her to new friends as
“This is Mother of 6”

But she obviously can’t take
my humour any more...
last night
as I called out to her
(at the dinner hosted by our neighbors)
when it was time to leave:
“Mother of 6, time to go” -
she retorted just as loud:
“OK, lead the way -
O Father of 4!”

O how I hate people
who can’t take
a joke…

you need a moment, sometimes,
a moment can be a series
of seconds that add up to forty winks;
a moment of quite, time away from
the clamor and the crowd and the hungry
away from the brightness, the lights
and the demanding, and the conversations
and questions, and queries and routine
just away from people to think a little perhaps
to drop into the quiet of oneself
a moment in the chair, elbow on the table –
could have shut the door, you know,
so the creak will wake, alert you, maybe;
could have had a fruit (did you?),
or could have moved the spare chair round
so any intruder would have to move it
which would have served as ample warning
and you could’ve said: “Oh, how dusty in here,
just cleaning up, nearly finished…”
but maybe you’ve your own devices and stratagems
whatever, we’d just say now, looking at you
the way Vermeer’s left you for us, dear girl asleep,
you sleeping, retired into this quiet, into this room
in your corner, elbow on the table,
you in the chair, leaning sideways
we’d say, seeing you:
*you need a moment, sometimes,
a moment of quiet, time away –
hey, good on you…

He whispered he’d love me forever
so I had his name in a heart
tattooed on my back;
a year later I fell in love again
and this time I whispered I’d love forever
so I had this other eternal love’s name in radiant sun
tattooed just below my belly button

Years have passed
and when I have a new love
he seems to gaze
at either side of my body
and never comes back at all

“Hey," I call to one of them.
“You promised to love me forever
the night when we made love
in the couch in my place -
and now you refuse to answer my calls.
What happened?”


“Well,” he asks,
“what happened to the eternal love
Tom promised you on your back?
And what about Sam’s eternal love
just below your belly button?”

Oh these men,
they’re so unreasonable,
and so childishly jealous…

B always felt incomplete
felt half
like something  was always missing
so it consulted a psychiatrist who said:
“Try saying: ‘I am B and it’s good to B me!’”
But it only worked for eight days

B tried filling itself with liquor
and it did feel full
but it only lasted eight hours

it also tried reading all books
and tried Shakespeare too
especially the immortal lines:
“To be or not to be”  –
But the elation, it only lasted eight days


and then at last
B saw 8 on the front door
and B knew why it’d always
felt incomplete
half
like something was always missing
and it coupled with a B
which was born the other way round
But soon the Alphabet Morals Police
came round
and separated them
so B was just incomplete again

And B sighed:
“Some things are just meant to B -
so just let it be”

Earthlings:
We have created a World
One World
One Language
One Way
in All Things
One True God
One Thought
One Government
One Will
We have created this
and we will extend
this benefit
to Planet Earth:
Not necessarily through agreement
but bringing all things to concord
to the One Way

Sir, we did not know this is your garden…
No…Sir, my brother wanted some flowers
and I said I would love them too

You see we were walking from the cottage
and my little brother ran across the fields
and I followed, Sir; and no, we were not able
to tell anyone; and my brother ran,
and he raised his hands across the fields
like the birds do, their wings across the skies
and I ran, and I forgot the distance
and the places
and then we sat down, tired and there was a brook
and we drank  some water
and then my brother saw the flowers across
on the other side
and he ran again and he wanted the flowers
He said he’d pick some for  Mamma,
some for our aunt
and that is how we came here;
and we love the flowers and the scent
and so I helped him, Sir…
no, we did not tell anyone we were coming
We don’t know where we are
Please Sir, do not look so angry
my brother is about to cry -
he cries when people are angry, and he is afraid
We will put the flowers back on the ground here
where it belongs, in your park, back on your land, Sir
Let us go now, Sir...we will go and
we promise not to come back ever again…
I will not let my brother come, nor will I

sweet love
come
gentle love
we’ll stand before the altar
of flowers that bloom on the arms of trees
and with the fish in the embracing lake;
and moss and soft grass on the ground
and clouds kissed by the benign sun
we’ll have our hands tied with vines together
dearest love
with flowers in your hair
and for humor, grapes balanced
on my head;
and while squirrels watch from up the branches
we’ll have little girls dressed as Flora
and boys as trees
and the choir will sing songs of nature
and the birds will float lazy
and we’ll wait till the moon rises
and the celebrant will sing at our marriage
and we’ll walk into the water
and hug and kiss underwater
and come out to be dressed with
the ceremony of the light, myrrh and wine
and stay the night in a tent
guarded by guests who drink and celebrate all night
and it will be such love and life
sweet love
the conventional world will say,
oh let’s do our marriage again –
a marriage updated in these times
a marriage held in nature’s arms

It’s Meeting Day
and Sam and his Dad
are with the teacher
at school

and the teacher
compliments Sam –
but she has one 'but’ ;
Sam has a predisposition in class
to use too often the word: “****”

Dad hears this and turns to Sam
“You little ****! How dare you
use such words? Stop your
**** mouth from
using **** words like that in class,
you little ****!”

And then Dad turns to the teacher
and he says with a smile of assurance:
*“Don’t worry, Miss – that will fix
that little ****!”

coming new to love
still I want to think about things you know
and so I look deep into my heart
and we must be candid and frank, you know;
and of course we’ll have all those things
like love, family, values and kids
but look - a man needs what he needs and so
that’s essential too, you know:
so maybe 3 times a day in the first years
and then depending on work and how often the kids are around
you know;
but really we have to manage at least once each day
and so like that in our twenties and thirties maybe
and then the kids go away in our forties
and so maybe we’ll revert to 3 or 2 each day again
for a while
depending on my ability and yours too
and then maybe only twice each day past in our sixties
till our last days certainly
and maybe just once when I say my final goodbye:
that’s my proposition
my beer-drinking plan for a whole life together...
would you find that acceptable, sweet love of my life?

1
Nasrudin rushes into
the House of Prayer and
mumbles a quick prayer
and gets up just as quick
to rush off

Wait! commands the Chief Priest
in the House of Prayer
Say your prayers again -
slowly and with dignity!

And so Nasrudin follows instructions
and says his prayers slowly and with dignity
and then he asks the Chief Priest if he can go


2
Yes, says the Chief Priest
And don’t you think
the Mighty Lord is pleased
with your prayer slow and dignified
rather than the hurried
and quick one you offered first?

Not really, says Nasrudin

And why is that? asks the Chief Priest

Why? asks Nasrudin
*Because my first prayer was for God;
the second was just to please you

if a 100 years from now
one might read this poem
and my other posts
and one says:
‘Wow, how marvelous
these writings’
Then I’d say:
‘You never learn, do you?’




If a 100 years from now
one might read this poem
and my other posts
and one says
‘Hmmm…what *******
writing all these silly stuff’
Then I’d say
‘You never learn, do you?’



But if a 100 years from now
one reads this poem
and one says
‘Hmmmm...well, that’s interesting
but let me do my own thinking’
Then I’d say:
‘Humanity has come a long way’


And if indeed you now
in contemporary time
if you should read this post
and you should say:
‘Look, let me do my own thinking’
Than I’d say:
‘Yes, surely, the next 100 years is do-able’

it is Spring
and we walk here now
on the solitary mountain path;
on the branches that were bare but yesterday
are new leaves, fresh and unfurling;
and a few sprigs scattered about
on the shoulders of the path

the rocks are shaped and weathered;
Nature’s thumbs and fingers
have pressed the earth the way its Dao flows
There is a bird on a bare branch
and another sings its song, hovering in the cool air

And we, we two -
now walking on this path in Spring –
though we strive, and though we aspire
we too are but living beings
Nature will fold and discard, after use
gently or as it wishes
after use

she is not here
she’s gone
stranger in our midst
uncomfortable in our ways
she walked in the quiet below the trees
while we wrangled and plotted
in crowded alleyways
and streets

you do not see her
she’s not here
you won’t find her
at the edge of the lake
where she walked often
she’s not at the park
where she sat in meditation
while we clamored and fought
to bring to reality our dreams and ambitions
and vast unimagined desires, unacknowledged

she is not here
you do not hear her song
you do not see
her gentle face
all you have is your violence
and the harshness of your faces
she saw she was the stranger
and she walked past to move into her own

who’s this dead
run over by cars
and maybe trucks
found at five am
as I drive up Milton Road?
who’s this dead?
head pressed flat
and close to the road
tummy split open
and never too early for crows;
and fur still clear on the tar
and limbs outstretched
who is this dead?
poor misfit creature
who can’t negotiate our roads
who are you,
you gentle creature?
some gentle being who came down
from the trees at night
perhaps taking a walk
or looking for food
and knocked down dead
by tyres and such power

SON:
O mother
forgive me your son
for I could not bring sister
alive back to you
for time delivered her
into the hands of the unjust
and she chose a lake
as her burial ground;
father died in his exile
and all I bring to you now is myself
with nothing in my hands
for poverty and misery has been the reward
of the just and the righteous;
I lived by father’s words
of compassion and love and justice -
O dearest mother,
and the world proved a cruel master




MOTHER:
Though we are left
with nothing the world can see
nothing the world can measure by
there is the love one has…
O Zushio, my child -
and may that love sustain me, you
and may that love sustain all beings
O Zushio, my child
see your life’s journey this way:
May no harm befall any being
may all beings live in peace;
may all beings be happy
and no harm ever come to one
through my deeds and actions

they came to me with Big Books
they came with appeals and threats
but I said:
*Go, for
there is no philosophy,
no revelation
no dependence, no authority;
there are no terms
and one is free of all propositions;
there is none higher, none lower
and therefore all are same and even;
one does not slide to the past or tradition
and one does not idealize a future
and time is done and thought is observed;
there is no judgment here
no conditioning and beliefs
but one rests in what there is

on Planet Urrrgh
they don’t go: Burrrp!
instead it sounds: Sluuurp!

there are no people there
just plain blue shadows
that enjoy media discourse on
when the light will bring back
the substantial bodies they never knew

and on Planet Urrrgh
they don’t say: I love you!
they say: I love I!
they don’t wake up
they crawl and creep
and never go to sleep;
they don’t say: Good day!
they just mumble: Oh, no - not me again!

on Planet Urrrgh
they don’t have fancy words
so they call a ***** a *****
so the females and males don’t make love
they just enjoy ***

on Planet Urrrgh
their vocabulary consists
of just five words:
Sluuurp!
Iiiithnuu
Urrrrgh
Prrrghhhjjuu
Dooohnttrtrre
whic­h loosely translated in earthling language are:
Burp!
I love I!
Oh do that again, baby!
And again!
O ****!

and if you ask me
how I’d know all of this
about despicable Planet Urrrgh
that’s cos I’m from adorable Planet Trrrrkkkik;
and if you dispute
what I say about Planet Urrrgh
then I say unto you: Trrrrkkkik!

You know
lovely moon
Li Po
was drunk
and he paddled out to you
seeing your reflection
and he jumped into the lake
embracing you in the waters
and so he drowned;
but
you know,
loving moon,
I will not come to you thus;
instead you know my time
and you will drown
in the lake shadows of my quiet

one comes to this life
and one must seek comfort
and ease and one’s status
and this comes through careful nurture
and meticulous culture;
wealth and power flows from one to another
and one’s ease comes through the discomfort of the other –
the fool must fill the coffers of the cunning;
the weak must prop up the strong
and so this is the secret of life
and one must seek a group that can sustain one
and one must sustain that group too
and so keep all others in place under thumb, toe and fist
and so that the ease one comes to in life
flows constant like the rich living rivers

1
Oh what shall we do
what shall we do
with these drunken men -
like my very own darling
Mike Hammer?

Last night
I picked him up
from outside the pub
where he'd been drinking
with his mates
And in the car
almost near our home
he says: I love you
And I say to him:
Is that you talking
or the beer?
And he says
like lightning:
It's me talking.
I'm talking to my beer.

2

Oh what shall we do
what shall we do
with these drunken men -
like my very own darling
Mike Hammer?
I locked him in the car
doused him with effluent water
let him sleep there
till he turns sober
But it's 11am now and hot
and sober or not,
he's still asleep
in the car
and when I try and wake him up
he's still mumbling about love and beer

Oh what shall we do
what shall we do
with these drunken men -
like my very own darling
Mike Hammer?
Maybe I should dunk him over a hill
car and all
till he turns mature, till he's sober

O gentle ones
dear butterflies that have come in my garden
did you see?
I waited today in my lonely confine
prescribed to me by time and life
though I too tried, like you, to fly
but the years given me are too long
and not seven just like yours
and time has chained me to a single place
and no one comes
and in unquiet silence I sat in the shadows

and you flitted in

you flew in like a happy crowd of children
a cheerful procession of revelers
and you flew straight to the flowers -
the flowers! ah, dear butterflies
I had not even noticed them
and now I do...
all of it -
your gentleness
and your grace
and the charm of the flowers
and the beauty of the day;
and now that you are come
I too am cheerful
I am happy too
since you flew in

come, we are lovers
who have taken our pleasures
all through night
we have taken what each can give
and exchanged ****** fluids
and we have lived
a range of sensations
and shown each other skills of the flesh

and now it is dawn
come though we are lovers
we must depart
for day signals toil and roles we must play
till night comes again and we may express
each to the other
bring out from within
what light suppresses all day
and what darkness excites all night

come then, we as lovers
it is dawn and it is time
for each to be in one’s proper place
till once again we meet
in night’s desired transgressions

come, it is a cool evening;
it is time for the body to rest
and the mind to withdraw within;
let us play then
a raga for this evening:
notes and a rhythm and a flow
that shall bring quiet, peace and calm in one’s being;
and perhaps as you play
the melody and  magic
might induce me into a state
of inspired words that might come out as song and verse
that might bring ease and stillness
to all that might hear us play and sing

The Creative Writing teacher
has sniffed out a cheat
and she glares at Tom and barks at him:
“Tom – each word in this writing
you submitted
is exactly the same as the one your
brother Sim has submitted”

And quick as a leaping dog comes
little Tom’s answer:
*“Yeah – it’s the same dog!”

see
the creatures of the earth
burrow deep
and go to sleep
in your absence;
and they come again
kicking and hungry
when you shine

said one cat to the other
at the playground:
*“My mum always advised me
never to
climb trees
For she did say
very wisely:
‘What has bark
will bite next’”

1)  THE INVITATION

Mr and Mrs Smith
thought they'd need
(Oh, just for fun)
a change of guests they had
so they invited Death
for a meal, via email
“Hello, would you care
to come for dinner?
6pm will be fine.”
And Death said yes,
but he wanted to know:
Is that a death wish?
And he was working at home
so he continued deleting
names on his database


2)  DINNER

And it was dinner
and Mrs Smith rolled
her eyes, and patted her curls
and Death said:
“You trying to flirt with me?”
And then they played cards
and Death looked
at Mr Smith dealing
and he groaned:
“You trying to cheat me?”
And Mrs Smith said:
“How would you like your dinner?”
And Death said: "Always cold for me.”
And Mr and Mrs Smith thought
it was time for their guest to go
but Death said:
*“I’ll have you know
nobody tells me when to come or go”

I went to work
and I worked hard
and it was humdrum, tedious
and so I wrote a poem
but you know, nobody pays for poems
You can dream
but you can't put bread on the table
so I went to work
and I worked hard
and it was humdrum, tedious
and so I wrote a poem
but you know, nobody pays for poems
You can dream
but you can't put bread on the table
so I went to work…

the sunset does not come,
do you think,
to be appreciated
and to be told how beautiful it is,
don’t you think?
the stars come in at night
and the moon too
not really for appreciation
and to be glorified and to be the subject
of paintings and songs and nursery rhymes;
they simply are in the general scheme-dance of things;
the bird may sing to attract a mate
and perhaps to warn the group
but it does not sing, it appears,
for audience approval and applause
and ratings and number of visits;
it is just its nature, I think:
so that the sunset comes
and the stars and the moon too
according to conditions
and the bird sings because it must;
there are no complications…

the evening sunlight falls on the lily-pilly
and the green leaves come ablaze
and the birds fly over in the sky
and the clouds spend their short lives
forming shapes and playing games:
it is all here before me
and I observe
and I am here too;
and there is no dogma or belief
or any book to live one's life by
one is free of all conditioning
and one observes the world as it is

1 HIS SONG

His song was always:
I see no good
see no kindness
in the world
I see no hope
I see no gentleness
nowhere all round me


2 THE SCENE

and now he lies
bowels dismembered
His intestines
making a nice O
on the floor;
his limbs like sticks
stretched out
pointing towards the only door



3 POLICE VERDICT

*some evil
got him

one is aware
sleep's gentle hands
release one awhile
to turn over, perhaps
and one is conscious of a gentle light
and one sees the moon between the trees
a wisp of cloud ghost-moves past;
and sleep, the seductress, embraces one again

Shall we tell
dear Dr Bell
he’s actually
fallen into a well
that he’s not exactly
in  hell
he’s really
a frog in the well
but if we do tell
dear Dr Bell
he’s actually
in a well
not in his proclaimed hell
and if he climbs out of this well
it’d be swell
cos he’d be out of the cell
and he wouldn’t smell
but then I’m afraid
dear Dr Well
will come out
of his imagined hell
just in order to sell
his vision of a literal hell
with proclamation
and pronouncement:
“Hear all about it!
I know all about it;
I’ve been to
and back from hell”

So should we tell him
or should we not?
Oh what the hell!
We’ll wish him well
we’ll tell him anyway:
Earth shall always beget fools
and many will fall
each in their own well
and so make life
a living hell
So let’s get Dr Bell
out of the well
for many
a fool awaits his
Divine Vision of Hell

it is now the in-between
a transition, a lull
no action, the will
at rest
it seems


a moment –
no sense of measure, actually -
like the evening
that embraces  
the trees and the skies;
like the dancer before a move

it is now the mind’s quiet
one at peace, as if one meets oneself
a cessation the while
a pervading silence
that does not seem as an other;
this is the in-between

1
Nasrudin rushes into
the House of Prayer and
mumbles a quick prayer
and gets up just as quick
to rush off

Wait! commands the Chief Priest
in the House of Prayer
Say your prayers again -
slowly and with dignity!

And so Nasrudin follows instructions
and says his prayers slowly and with dignity
and then he asks the Chief Priest if he can go


2
Yes, says the Chief Priest
And don’t you think
the Mighty Lord is pleased
with your prayer slow and dignified
rather than the hurried
and quick one you offered first?

Not really, says Nasrudin

And why is that? asks the Chief Priest

Why? asks Nasrudin
*Because my first prayer was for God;
the second was just to please you

My love, my sweetheart
she is as white as cold milk
at will as transparent as glass;
her lips are red, as red as dripping blood

she wakes me up each night
with a newly-plucked out
still-beating heart
of all varieties of human emotions:
"Breakfast in bed?" she croons

O her every word is a scream
her every look burns the spirit
she shrieks and groans and moans
enough to raise me up to the clouds
O her very touch is icy cold
her embrace is as delightful as being
in the arms of Queen Winter -
O...Ooo...wwooooh...should I compare her in a sonnet to a Winter's night?
but that would be groundless
for she excels
every unpleasantness
and horror, and she breaks all form

My love
she screeches like car tyres in a sudden stop
she scratches down my back
like a tractor on farm land
her eyes are hollow
and we exchange worms when we kiss;
her ears pop out
of her dry, unkempt straggly hair -
O she drives me into long howls, that wild wild
ghost of once a woman

O eternity,  eternity with my cold, cold love
O what would I not give to be always
and always
in spirit with her -
O I could die forever
to be in the cold, cold embrace
of my hollow-eyed screamy love

let us go with no care
just the basic necessities,
sweetheart;
just the proper care
and due diligence for the times afar
but not forgetting each other
for that’s all
that’s the only we have
here and now
though time’s waves
might roll our boat forwards
as they please;
but then time is a fool
for it does not know
we have each other
here and now
always here and now…

My straight back is broken
I can hardly keep an upright posture now
as I once used to
but my spirit is not broken,  Sirs
And though I lean on a walking stick
which is my devoted companion -
more useful to me than a daughter or son
(my wife passed on , Sirs
poor woman she went three years ago) -
I still have my dignity, a sense of my worth, Sirs
O you who enquire where I come from -
where I come from is the past, Sirs, truly
(I do not mean to be insolent in that)
for truly time has eaten much of my memory
and all that was mine or familiar
or what was worth holding on to
The streets here are my home, Sirs
so I know my present
what corner I can find
when the bones are weary;
but otherwise I wander the streets
where my legs will carry me
and where the city police will let me;
and where there are no street urchins, I tarry
And I have naught to do but observe
the energetic world go by
(a world wearied in its own drive)
with which I am disconnected
And that has no personal meaning for me
except for its occasional kindness
But that Sirs, if I may go now, is my beginning and end
and all that which is mine…as my wife might say,
and she said, as the good woman died:
*Well, if it pleases you or not, I must go now

let the calm of the evening
let it descend in our hearts;
embrace
its coolness and its quiet
its invitation to thought and reflection;
let its peace
let its power come in;
and perhaps let us put aside
all our concepts and vengeance
and perhaps in this quiet
see the anarchy in one’s heart,
and leave all tension, all misgivings
and see the stillness within oneself
as in this evening;
and perhaps then one sees all the calm and peace
and the love
and the oneness
and may that be in one
all days and all nights

it seems man says
(thanks to Descartes):
I think, therefore I am

it seems God says:
*Man thinks I am
therefore I am

it’s the time of the parochial
baby
tread with care;
it’s the time of fear and violence
walk with eyes
before and behind you

the barbarians are everywhere
tearing down libraries;
there are demon contortionists
who can bend Truth and sense;
and there is violence
blessed by God
and justified in anyone’s Holy Book

there is a man
who looks at how you dress
and look;
there is a team taking notes


the mindless are everywhere
and they want to eat your minds;
there is blackhole-distortion
and everything you might hold dear
is taken to be twisted and turned

look to your mind baby
look to your heart;
there’s the dread of Satan
who walks in God’s clothes;
they try and take what you got
and give you salt and sand to eat


it’s the time of the parochial
baby
tread with care;
it’s the time of fear and violence
walk with eyes
before and behind you

When I was a teenager
(like Dave Allen must have been)
I was at confessional
and the priest asked me what my sin was

" I have been in bed, Father
with a woman
of loose morals," I said
and refused to give a name

He sighed and he said:
"Was it Anna Berley?"
I said I couldn't tell
"Was it Sue Saxton?"  he persisted
I insisted I was sworn not to tell
"Nora Muxton?"  he asked again
I remained silent
And he dismissed me then with
5 Our Fathers and  5 Hail Marys


My mate Sam was outside
and he asked what I got
and I said to him:
*"5 Our Fathers and  5 Hail Marys -
and 3 good leads is what I got"

there is no seeing, no clear seeing; we do not want to see…
We rather have glasses with rainbow colors on them,
so what we see is seen through them…
Why see for oneself?
it’s far easier
far better, much more comfortable
to get in a group
and believe in what you are told to believe
I mean it’s too much effort to see for oneself: why bother
when people give you free rainbow glasses and tell you
to see through that?
so we stand at the bottom of the tree
and we listen to the man who climbs up the tree
and he shouts his description
and he tells you what he sees
and he gives you a complete description
of the world he sees
beyond the hills and mountains
and he comes down
and you’ve got his description –
and we all say:
“Write his words down
and this we shall believe
for this is the Complete Description
of the Truth seen
by our Mighty Seer…
and this we believe in….”
The description, the word
becomes the thing;
nobody climbs trees themselves–
why should they?
they’ve got the Complete Description.
and it’s added on
and illuminated
and passed on and on and repeated
until no one questions
and anyone who questions
is blind and does not see
You must not question authority.
There is no clarity
because the group
writes down everything for you
in a book
(Oh no, it’s not from the group;
it comes from High Above)
and you read the book
and you repeat and repeat
until the brain’s programmed
and the book talks in you
and the group shouts in you
and you do not think
everything’s done for you:
it’s safer this way
because this way all the promises, one thinks,
will come true
So we all book a place through our group’s book
and let the group do the talking and let the group
do the thinking and we just have faith and beliefs and dogma
and the promise and our greed
So we never see what actually is and we see
but through the tradition, the revelation, the doctrine,
the rainbow glasses…we see what we are told to see…
We’d rather be slaves
in the mind
for it’s safer that way,
safer in groups that will lead us on
than do the thinking, it’s too much effort…
Ah, clarity is too frightening;
it’s much easier to believe
and to be comforted by the Book
and to hang on to badges
and to hang on to labels
than to drop all beliefs and to see what actually is…we all
want to go to Heaven, don’t we?
With all the promised rewards…but if one could put aside
the description, and the rewards, and the rainbow glasses...

I see you moon
this cool autumn morning
you sing over the river and trees
and you are supported
by your dance troupe of stars

you witness my dying
as you see my life, my hopes and desires
and all my embarrassments
and my achievements too,
dear moon
O quiet presence,
O radiant presence all one's life;
and what do you look at these days
in my life
darling moon
what do you see?
you who have seen the child grow old
and you hang out beaming by the window
patiently
to see one more death
to add to the countless you witness
since the day you came

Hi mate…ya, I’m in for
housebreaking and trespassing
and robbery, all in one, ya

Well, I, **** I broke into this mansion
and hey, I picked up lots of rare stuff
precious little things that’d fetch much money
later at the thieves’ market, ya
And I threw them into my handy bag
and then I found myself in the kitchen
and fixed myself a drink, ya
and the sofa was nice
so I sat down to have my drink, ya -
some rich man’s fancy wine or French luxury,
or whatever it was, ya

And it was comfy in the sofa
and the drink I had another
and it was so comfy I went to sleep, ya
and the next moment
the police were there
It wasn’t a dream, ya
It seemed the ****** owners had come in
while I was asleep
and they’d call the police, ya –
****! I’ve always had this habit
of sleeping on the job, ya!

And that's how
I **** got landed here, mate