The body that I am incarnated in was born in the middle of the very rainy summer of 1939.
My vehicle for life.
All seeing-all smelling --all tasting--all touching--all speaking--all hearing --all sensing --perambulating -singing-dancing-cooking--drinking --painting--******* etc etc vehicle.
Born a few months before the Second World War,with all its nonsensical religiously patriotic and democratically oligarchic and liberally fascistic evil nonsense, started.
Makes me a Rider of the Storm eh?.
Eat yer heart out Jim Morrison!.
Slid out of my mothers womb in the upper room of a brand new house.
Situated on a new street somewhere on a new development on the edge of a 3000 years old walled city in 'gods' own country'--that's what they called it.
Yorkshire!.
First smell I remember,clearly,was rain soaked Lilac and Earth mixed together.
Their scent coming hrough the open bedroom window.
AAAAH rain soaked Lilac.
Second smell was Tobacco from downstairs where my father was anxiously chain smoking.
Then came my first taste.
He,my father,dipped the tip of his little finger into his glass of celebratory Whiskey and poked it into my mouth as I lay there,wrapped in swaddling clothes.
Irresponsibility!!.
Second taste was her warm rich creamy breast milk.
And so my days and nights started.
They told me the name that I was to answer to--as if it was the whole of me.
They told me my beliefs and attitudes and desires and limitations and skills etc etc.
They told me that what I have come to know was my conditioned identity was the real me---but it isn't!..
The lied to me --in innocent ignorance.
My sister taught me to read and write by the time I was 3 years old.
I grew up knowing,deep down, that I was something else.
Not the 'Something Else' that Ornette Coleman played,on his magnificent disc,either.
War raged elsewhere throughout my childhood--mainly across the seas far away.
I watched flight after flight of four engine bombers roar overhead every day ,on their way to drop bombs on children I would never meet.
There was a busy air base 2 miles away from the house I was born in.
Once an injured bomber,coming back from a raid,crashed in flames on two houses at the top of the street I lived in.
I found war to be a hellish and frightening experience.
And along the way I discovered that I couldnt explain to 'myself' who I was, exactly,either.
That my parenters gift of identity was misleading.
I asked 'myself' who or rather what was I?.
By the time I was 3 years I was a ******* from 'Osteomylitis'--or so they told me.
I couldn't walk with massive  left hip joint pain I suffered.
I spent the years from 3 to 6 in a traction bed in a couple of hospitals.
Gobbling down Cod liver oil and Malt for the vitamins--and it worked!!!.
At 6 I learned to walk--YES!!!.
All that pain was left behind.
Thank you Gautama.
My life was suffering but as you supposedly said.
Suffering can be overcome.
And I overcame it.
And I ran and jumped across streams and climbed trees and walked for miles and miles and danced the dance of life.
I foraged for blackberries and wild mushrooms and crabapples and horseradish roots and rosehips and other fruits of nature.
I fell in love with the song of the Yellowbeak--Blackbird to you.
Became enraptured by the smell of wild Roses in the hedgerows.
And I sang and sang and sang and danced and danced and danced.
And all the while I just knew that I wasn't the body that I was incarnated in.
Even though my parenters kept on insisting that I was that body.
And I knew that I wasn't who they had told me I was either.
I knew that I wasn't the conditioned identity of the body that they insisted I was..
At 9 years I passed an exam and won a free scholarship place at a fee paying 'public' school.
My education started in earnest.
Lain and French andAlgebra and Geometry and  expectations of University.
I fell in love for my very first time at around 12 years old.
Raymond was his name.
He taught me how bisexual I was.
I swallowed litres of his body fluids.
Oh how I loved him.
Then after 2 ecstatic years he rejected me because I was a different class to him.
AAAAARGH!.
Then around 14 years the monthly seizures started.
A regular dark descent into unconsciousness.
I experienced the small death of Julius Ceasar and Leonardo Da Vinci.
Back to waking consciousness after an hours out of the body trip into the Astral realms.
Waking with total total amnesia.
With no mind or conditioned identity but both came back within one hour of waking and took over again.
Along with a helluva headache.
But I woke as me--who or whatever that was.
I wasn't who they said I was.
I was me!.
Whatever that was.
Where did I come from?
My purpose in life became to find out what I was and what the source of my existence was.
Teenage life as a rock n roller started beckoned and I embraced party life.
I won cups of silver for dancing very energetically to Bill Haley and Chuck Berry.
I discovered the other half of my bisexuality.
I found girls.
Oh girls how I love you.
and love you and love you.
I started to play trombone at 18 years.
Then trumpet and drums then into my life walked MISS SAXOPHONE and I melted!!!!.
Alto alto wobbly lines of sound poured out from the bell of my alto sax.
I was 23 and toying with buddhism and social alcoholism and playing saxophone jazz(probably badly).
26 and I got married for the first time.
I was playing Free Jazz rather amateurishly by now.
In 1967 I moved to London--became a longhaired hippy--started my own band called BrainBloodVolume--took many doses(literally 1000s) of pure LSD and Mescaline and Psyllocybin and DMT--embraced diet reform--became ordained as a buddhist monk in 1966--played with Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon and the pink Floyd--went to live in the Balearic Islands--Mallorca,Ibiza,Formentera--started to do oil paintings--had a Master Class in Concert Flute playing from Roland Kirk in the dressing room at Ronnie Scotts Jazz Club in London.Became addicted to Macrobiotic Food and Spring Water and puffing Waccy Baccy(always through a Water Pipe..



Its been seventy seven years in this incarnation that I have been wandering the face of this big ball in space seeking the answer to the eternal questions of life.

What am I and where do I come from and what is my purpose?.

And here  is the answer--!!.

I am an individual isness formed solely from a small but equal independent and autonomous portion of the isness of the universe.

Each individual isness is an eternal, small but equal, independent, autonomous,nameless, formless,genderless,classless,casteless,non physical and unconditionally  loving portion of the isness of the universe.

The isness of the universe is the whole of the nature of reality and is the sole source of all existence and is eternal,nameless,formless, genderless,beingless and autonomous and unconditionally loving and is not a 'god' or a 'goddess' or any kind of being.

I live in the joyousness of shared unconditionally loving union with the isness of the universe.

Its timeto yoke the joker


yo to the emcees that think they could get with me
i wet em like an ocean tide personality like jekyll and hide
which means im a killa slash for short drama no comma imma
brutal emcee eatin' 'em up the best of em im the lyrical cannibal
flesh rent devil sent no need for repent
comin' with wickedness born with 8 flows if ya only knew
******* come in the sets of three im givin' wishes for free
the rap genie aint' comin' to be a hero the black zorro thorrough
shoot up the barrio dead eye hawkin' assassin' blastin'
with the greatest tech mouth shots or physical shots it don't matter
whatever it takes to get the job done
my posse cocked d slapped you *******
you can smoke all the spinach you want and you leave like popeyes
get it naw forget sensitive ******* i knit it
write in graffiti love hoes shape like Nefertiti queen b goddess
never a ***** **** in my encore **** with me and ill bring the war along with gore
******* never been a softie
daddy had to be a gangsta **** hustler drug dealer all summed in one
so i had no choice but to pack a gun
but meanwhile im onto bigger and better things like rappin' on the mic i cling
flows tighter rhan pliers leave emcees wrapped up like cable wires
the sire embraced higher learning spurning over obstacles
turn complexity into miracles
how could i ever fall if i never fall failure not an acceptation
id rather sells drugs and extortion and get caught wit 25 big ones
fed time **** the state time im on the grind one time
always wanna see me fall black man finna rise planet of the apes style
hot and wild j ceasar with these skills i spills sendin' chills
its an ice age all over just say its over when big yosef grab the mic
prepare for fright when i ignite blast through hearts like a cannon
i just smoke ya ya mediocre its time to yoke these jokers
yea
 

Shakespeare’s Caesar
Was never noble
Dripping blade dropping blood
Brutus nailed it
To cease the invasions
To end the destabilization
To save his nation
From a warmonger
Crimson smothered blade
Slick with sic gore
The ideas of march
Antony claimed
Noble Caesar
And the masses followed suit
The mob never knew the truth
Caesar was a monster
Gutted and blooded
Life flooded from his vein
But never came close to the stains
That painted his hands

knock, knock, knock*

I open my door
and am immediately
greeted by
three 19 year old elders.

They want to talk to me
about Jesus and
their version of
a sacred text and I want
to talk to them about: God,
Philosophy, Religion,
Art, Music, etc.

but I just put a greasy
pan on med-high
heat to cook some
bacon and it's
filling my apartment
with smoke.

Yet, my curiosity of
these creatures at
my door temporarily
supersedes kitchen
safety protocols,
so I start to oblige
them and even
entertain some light
discourse in the
hallway.

I begin to explain my
perspective when
my attention skips back
to the pan
and the hot metal
smell tickling my nose.

-protocols back in place-
I decline their invitation
to visit their temple, now
or any time in the
future, then shake
their hands.

I accept a pamphlet
from the last one,
"The Plan of Salvation",
after he scribbles a
phone number on
the back.

I wish them luck
and close my door
without locking it,
stride over to the skillet
and take it off
the burner.

Good thing I removed
the batteries from
all the smoke
detectors.

If you have a moment,
Sir or Madam,
would you please hear my lament,
of the sad and woeful tale
Of Fail.

Hidden behind masks,
Enscribed with who he wished to be,
Yet,
Ever so deceptive,
Of his true identity.

Today, I am Ceasar,
Tomorrow, Shakespeare.
Yet,
These masks,
Are but a tool...

Tomorrow's play,
They will soon say,
Shall be my most glorious act,
Known to man!

With no regret,
Do not fret,
I shall don the greatest of all masks...
Myself!          

Now, you may ask,
Who is Myself?
We put our true identity on the shelves,
To show no mortal, not even ourselves!

Yet,
perhaps...
Bear with me...
If I were myself...
I would be content with myself!

No, no, no...Forgive Me!
Who am I to say this the way to be!
The only way to be merry...is to be someone who I am not!
To please others is the way to attain happiness, is it not?

Fail discarded his "Myself" mask that day,
Yet, forevermore, everyday,
He questioned who he was,
As he never truly felt to be himself.

Now, since you have stuck by me until the end of this tale,
And, with the unfortunate Fail,
I inquire of you, and, please, discard all of your masks, if you can:
Who are you, really?

Three days after the ides, and the story
told of a spirit that calls for vengeance,
to this very day, while it is called Today.

Entranced, couchlocked, looking dazed…
but none see me, to challenge me, vie with me
for watcher-alarm sounder silencing
clouds of knowing growing deeper, thicker, sort
of jello-time from post -2022

Monstor Fighter wannabes, realize
your fantasy, word to word,
sword to sword, progress, keep time, watch,
imaginations
bound in bundles and packeted for consumption,
- feel like a hero,
- just like that, that's the spirit, believe
- in the dream
Really,

see the lie you first believed, take your life exam.

Who really established
the stack you stand your ground rule upon.

Tell me no lie, I can check your facts, and my own,
a gazer into the abyss, must dare the awareness,
more than once, of the abyss staring into the gazer.

Life, lived a breath per moment of note, taken
as if this were me alive, and well taken care of,
by a benign monstor arm of benignity itself,
war feeds me and clothes me, I survived,
so the proof of the nation's promise,
I am, a trained-will that will obey rules,
conserved as rights held by heads of state,
- liberal conservation of meaning trees
- frees old readers from fishing for facts,
- we, the augmented, have public access…
- good citizen status, unto death…

as paraded boys, with fixed bayonets, pledged
and inspired by ancient incantations, patience,
steady cadence, rank and file,
perform as a mass minded thing agreed, a team,
- call to attention, respond
Testudo, hold. Sistere, hobnailed to your ground,
our
ground, hold that line, hold it,
hold it, get the rush,
without the dread duty of picking up the dead.
- Flash, my first duty in Vietnam, was
- to identify a body, that was not there…

shield walls, all games now, stories tell life
as a game, a test for bestness, or likestness,

yet, ever spun off, a few, a little leaven,
welsh held tongue song word long whole ideas,
by and bye, ye ken the less,
what's an hour's worth?

when does saving time, as a way to change
the season, in an effort
to increase productivity,
cease being a grand plan
for empowering all the needs intuited,
solar- leanings, shade and sunlit,
future from now, reckoned some how,
- wait, the engine driving the beast
- global economic collapse, is war, the idea
- that it is a god idea,
- monstrous fact of what we are, in agreement.
Peace, as proven ever winning, edgewise,
at the core, the intention we assume is true,
people have a reason in the whole ever idea,
immeasurable,
from inside.
..
the reason I wish
to live, longer,
money, use of it, actually,
literal debts for my luxury,
paid by the rules, the game, I won,
my life, in soul possession,  
is the rational measure, the cup of essence
of mankind to be supplied
to all agreeable minds, all free, to try, read
grown-up learn to read as teacher read
from the abundance of answers,
already to be taught to form
foundational anchors,
fears, joys, honor and disdain
of the garden earth is,
under, or behind great magnetic shields,
set to let life function to frame a state,
a stasis, relative to ever, after time
has no measure, the racer's mind,
long run pace, cadence call,
hup, two, three, four, heart beat

fit to the cultures of old, when all boys
were tough, or never boys at all.

"A rather Spartan lifestyle", an eastern reporter,
for Sun Jung Moon's Washington Star, said
of my cohort, during the prepper years.
---
old days --- always better after survival
from warstory to biography
--- look inward

Cranking jams in my haptic suit,
leaping valleys, sweeping down
canyons like I'm little Luke Skywalker;

When my eyes accept the invitatory story
challenge, vie for the power try,
triumphant,
meaning #2, spiritual victory.
Define spirit - breath, breathe, the one to the other
spirit of the bayonet - the word as command, ****
****, ****
take life take life take life, imagine too long,
as the addicted to hormones video triggers,
words
unspoken, live to prove the lie,
ready, read

I feel your pressure, fused with super lies,
unbelievable incredible opposition to peace or mind,
manifested handily as joy in breath,
imagine loving your enemies is your duty,
smile,
laugh and sigh. Some never try.
What can possibly be true, is;
what cannot possibly be true is not and never was.