Mommy mommy
take me home
I've wandered these streets
alone
for far too long
what's a grown man to do
not knowing exactly
what he's supposed to do.
Bourn too many moments
of other's sorrows
at the expense of my own.

Mommy mommy
take me home
I saw you in my
dreams last night
a corpse in a car
you honked
as you drove on by
my thumb was out
trying to hitch a ride
to where I can not say
you put your finger to your lips
"Shush, baby"
was all you had to say.

The lights of the city burn
each one someone's home
each apartment
like souls
world's of their own
I've knocked on many doors
and some have let me in
though a place to rest
no home, no peace, no silence
for me.

I've been a restless poet
a wanderer too
forever traveling through
those internal landscapes
a paid guide
through all those painful memories
and those standing on the edge of suicide
some move along
some fall behind
I offer that pool of peace
reflections
is all I've had to give.

Mommy mommy
take me home
you are running far too late
I've been alone out here far too long.

Standing on this corner waiting
my eyes are tired
in burn outs fading light
the
streets shine neons invitations
but none welcome me.

Mommy mommy
what did you mean
when you put me out here
to be
and when will you pick me up
or
will I remain forever lost
out on this corner
thinking each car coming is you.

I'm still wandering these streets
paying the cost
looking for home
looking for you.

Mommy mommy
time to take me home
time to take me back to you.

I'll be your Elk's Head
granite and sandstone
falling off into the Pacific
falling off over thousands of years
I'll take everything
the ocean has to give
every storm
every wind
with my smooth scarred
face forward
into the sea.

I'll be your kayaker
on those hormonal rivers
running through the white waters
of
ups and downs.

Sparking fireworks
like the crashing waves
at Elk's Head
we'll both go ooh and ahh.

I'll be the wood stove
warming you
when you lay
most exposed.

I'll be the breath
you feel when you are lost
in the nightmares of realities past
I'll breathe peace in
and fear out
with each breath
I take.

I'll be the morning sun
after migraine night
the
end of the pain
the beginning of delights.

I'll be there
when
the road is dark
a flashlight through
the horizontal snow.

We'll be there
when
the final nova flares
fireworks explodes
into oblivion
that'll be my hand in yours.

There's a full moon risin'
in a blackened sky
there's a full moon
sittin' huge
on the horizon sky.

There's someone standin'
on top of that hill
could it be I?
Hearin' music coming thru the trees
dancing
an old soft shoe
arms held high
silhouetted
by
that big full moon sky.

There's a shadow bein' cast
long thin and lean
stretchin' out creating darkness,
while illuminating light
all around
the shadow movin' ahead
a thin strip of darkness
and callin' it my life.

Illumination
darkness
a small pin light
flashin'
on
memories
possibilities
metaphors
allegories
waterfalls
in
all­ those
exquisite present moments
the poetry
our flash light lightenin'

And of course
there's a soul
could it be I?
Dancin' that old soft shoe
on top of that hill
a moment's delighting
in a full moon's night sky a risin'...

Access to excess
holds you tight
in its vice.

It starts off
it always feels so right
filled with promise and abundance
walking into that casino
loaded with cash
scoring the bag at Christine's
weekly motel
one more dab will do you.
She knocks on your door
and only wants you
the night is filled with promises too.

Is this any different
then gluttonous
billionaires hoarding what they can
it's never enough
while the rest of us drown.

The waiting, waiting, waiting
for it to come through
there's that too.

Access to excess
has this advice:
"I'll deal with it later"
and
"One more time. "

Drip, drip, drip
blood
triggered rush
images and cravings
euphoric memories
kaleidoscope
in
one body rush
after another
until there is no more living
in
your own skin.

Rubbing your self raw
to get back to that moment
when you first walked in
when abundance
was real
and
access to excess
was all you could feel.
What a moment of exhilaration.

Of course there are these bonuses too
ending up
with total deprivation
"incomprehensible
demoralization"

Locked in a porta-*****
with a guy and a pipe
out of money
out of time
out of consciousness

Access to excess
what are we gonna do
now.

Started with
Happy New Year
spelled out
in rails of *******
carefully measuring
which letter
was largest
each of us got one
you
remember.

Carolyn
came with me
she was dressed in red
she figured that bowl
of quualudes
was
all meant for her.

The gang was all there
passing out gifts
rusted out back scratchers
found in the garage
no kids yet.

Sheraton spoke in mysteries
his wife Jane
hustled me behind the shed
Joaquin
was  drunk on his knees again
screaming for ***** and poetry
Patti
had recently found recovery
and I was spending my time
trying to convince her to drink.
The party didn't begin
until
Mary and Stuart arrived
our personal gurus
took us all
one step higher.
Olivia and Aaron
had
much to hide.
Davey
was
the ring master.

We
didn't have to go to the circus
we were the circus.

Little Feat
were still willing
the Dobbie Brothers
in high pitch
were still chillin
the Dead played amazing riffs
Bob Dylan was street legal
the Boss was depressed
the
sound track to our lives.

I gotta job
working in a drug free program
all the staff
sat in a VW van
having a staff meeting
and
passing a joint.

Carolyn and I
kinda got married
had a big party
I knew I was in trouble when
she launched herself
on the bed of gifts
and tried to swim
up stream.
I
learned all the messages
of
Alanon
in one brief flash

Everything passes
everything changes
we all know that.

I got a real job I wasn't qualified for
missed a deadline at school
tossed out on my ***
no 26 year old
Ph.D.
for me
just another suicide
on the horizon
saw my grandmother
and
the white light
but
also at the job
met the future mother
of my children
and of course
she was to be
my
future ex-wife.

When Carolyn found this out
she
brought
a gun to my work
to
tell me what she
thought about that
it ended all right
on that night.

I lived in Laurel Canyon
in a beautiful garden
on Wonderland Avenue
John Holmes
was my neighbor
bigger than life.

1978

It ended as it started
with *******
the big chill crowd
together again
one last look back at the year
in
Super 8
Davey's traditional dance as historian
for the year that passed
one last look
and
farewell.

Blue Hydrangea
adrift
in the
black vacuum sea
wilting
brown

How this could have
happened I will
never hear again
but it happened
all the same
exactly this way.

I was walking in
Prairie Creek
surrounded by my
soon to become silent
companions
when I noticed
events so
strange.

I dug my feet
into the dirt
they soon dissolved
and roots were
sprung
a nervous system extending into
the soil, oh the sounds the
smells I felt.

Where my skin once was
bark began to emerge
my fingers became tiny
clones of myself
each speaking different
tongues I could not comprehend
I made out these
words "our time has begun. "

I became a Buddha
on the road
a three quarter
smile on my lips
as my body grew
towards the sun
a thousand years
was now mine
and to it I did
succumb.

I watched the
generations pass
Christs come and
go and come again.
It all meant nothing
to me at all
as long as I have
this fog that nourishes
me and creatures living
in the canopy.

I stand at peace
for centuries
a thousand years
and still my life
is a five minute
dream filled with all
possible intensity
and former attachments
as the impermanence
of the illusion of
time was plain
to see
as human lives whirlwinds of
experience
dust devils
blew by me.

Lightening and fires burned me
but I survived.

Now that I stand in
this silence
lost in the meditation
of dreams
a solitary tree
the last standing
a brand new species
born of evolutions breeding
runs on the ground
dancing on my grave

I remember that
first day
the beginning of my
thousand year awakenings
I think it was only
yesterday.

He was far too disorganised
driving too fast
here and there
with no particular place to go.

She was a neon light
flashing
in the black Mojave night
a celestial mansion
alive
with such sweet smells.

He now had a purpose
a story to tell of
a
thousand fantasies
hotter
than the hinges
on the gates of hell
sparklers of desire
flaming through neurons on fire.

He was lite up
like
neon
in the dark Mojave night
all he could see
was
delights
in
every window burning bright.

Her fingers beckoned him
her eyes pleaded
her breath said
yes yes yes
her
body
danced and swayed
perfect harmony with all he craved.

He moved closer
moment by moment
movement by movement
to
take her to places promised.

He reached to take her hand
there was one
exquisite flash
disintegrated
shred into ash
on the pointed arrow
of
her forever flames

Just like that.

The Jack of Diamonds
he was a friend of mine
came around
on a Friday night
We beat those aces when he arrived
He was to do me wrong,
not once
but twice
not too far along.

Beat those aces
money flowed
around you came
didn't I know
a drifter with a heart of gold.

Jack of Diamonds
you and me
I figured that was the way it was going to be.

How was I to know
he
had an eight high flush
just when you
once again showed up
a Jack high straight
with the Jack of Diamonds
on top
smiling at me.

You backed off
said you had a call to make.

Everything came and went
went and came
one last player remained.

Jack high flush
was my name
all in
I played my game.
A
Full house stared back at me.
At least he didn't
have
ace's and eights
but he did have the next worst thing.

You said you had to go
Jack Diamond
sat
in his Mercedes Benz
flipped me off
and took you down the road
on a ride
to the party
that
never ends.

I
did
the parking lot walk
longing for everything
I had already lost.

The
continuity
of
all radiance and vibration
carves
out a space in me
for me
to
understand the secrets
of serenity.

Identify the divine
in
all our
living creations
our utterances
our fascinations
our foundations
letting go
of
all our self defeating
attachments
but those
that
are
our true blessings
and
not
false meanderings.

I
find myself
on
the roads
to
the realms
of
meaning
where
the sweetness
of
love
drips
drop by drop
and
eyes are illuminated
and
begin to see
call it god
call it rocks
call it soil
call it life
doesn't matter much to me.

We
are
orchids
blooming
adrift
in
the black vacuum sea
reminds me
in each
moment
to
consciously
be.

It's a sad tale
It's true
It happened to me
Don't tell anyone, please.

Darcy was a fifteen year old
runaway
1969
Came to San Francisco
that
was the place.

The most beautiful girl
I had ever seen
but
then I was only 19.

A different story
a different tale
Hugh Hefner
had given her
a flirting stare.
Just to let you know
how beautiful she might have been.

I lived on Homer Lane
Darcy and I, of course
lovers became.
She moved right on in.

As young lovers often do
3 months is 3 years
and
Darcy flew off to Wycoff
to see her crazy parents
he had built a wall
blown down by the wind
she dressed like Anthony Quinn.

As young lovers often do
three weeks later
I followed her
just to
see what we
were going to do.

The next thing I knew
we
were living on 12th Street
across from the New School.
Jimi Hendrix
down the block
screaming guitar jamming
from his fourth floor apartment
we'd all stop and listen.

I was going to
Gerdy's Folk City
singing my version
of my own written
Bob Dylan songs.

Darcy was putting
Huey Newton posters
on our rent controlled apartment
front door.
Somebody kept ripping them off
She added more layers.

Needless to say
we were evicted the next day
as young lovers often are.

It was summer
Woodstock came
Darcy bought us tickets
to
get us in the game.

I was working as a copywriter
writing movie ads
Every father's daughter is a ******
that
wasn't one of mine.
My claim to fame
for a short time running
trending you might say
"Up Madison Avenue"
a girl dancing on the top of a fist.

Darcy
had an ill fated
voyage to France
to
smuggle hash.
I
almost got us busted
at
the airport
Darcy's friend
who bought the plane ticket
hadn't told her about the ******
he
took the hash
and
was coming back.
We
never saw him again.

1969

As young lovers often do

We met at 5pm
at
the Port Authority
on
a Friday summer night

There were a lot of people
jammed together
knocked around
really tight
pivot point
it wasn't all right
claustrophobic bound

You know the drill

Heart pounding
hands tingling
sweating
hyperventilating to.

What would you have said
what do you think you would do?

"I gotta get out a here.
Let's go to the movies instead. "

She was very kind
went
and saw
Putney Swope
Up Madison Avenue.
The city was empty.
I
thought
I heard a pin drop
in
that warm summer night
in
New York City.

The very next morning
Darcy
was gone
Woodstock bound.
I was watching bowling
and
thinking something profound.

Two things left
to say:

will this shame
ever
go
away

And
guess who didn't
keep
his *******
ticket.

Every *******
text, email, reply
ends up
in a
rhyme.

Life
a
lightning flash
in
the vivid
truth
of
darkness.

There is a cumulus cloud
which ascended
thousands of miles high
into
the blue blue skies
the cloud
rolled in
riding the trade winds
following
the half cut moon.

As this cloud traveled
along those winds
covering
the stars and blackened sky
every human consciousness
on
the planet
was combined
in
the voices and desires
of
all mankind.

At first
the clamor was too much to bear
I
was frozen there
my head in the clouds
but
as the winds
blew
that cloud
across everywhere
we
became
one
silent mind
and
the celestial songs began to sing
and
in our hearts
peace
was finally found to begin.

Defining love
has been at the heart
of
everything I have ever done.

Defining love asks
when
I look deep into your eyes
see you deep inside
strengths and flaws
moments of harmony
moments of discord
moments of acceptance
moments of rejection

Defining love asks for more

Defining love
takes into account
we all have our hours
of
wild eyed insanity
No escape from that.
The question is asked
"irritating and annoying?"
or
are those wild eyes devastating
and hurting every time
defining love demands
stay or go.

Defining love
creates the thought
generates the emotion
brings the consequence
the story
we tell ourselves.

Defining love sometimes sends us to
**** ****** afternoons
exhausted and relaxed
defining love moves to closeness
to
these exquisite moments of  release.

Defining love plays up guilt
for everything
that could of
should of
been.

Defining love thinks that educating
is the way to be
slamming knowledge
in
rants and diatribes
"just what
my daddy
did
to me"

Defining love
will make you tough
by
being tough
and selling false expectations.
We all know what comes from this
my endless supply of mental patients.

Defining love doesn't give up
it has been said
******
defining love and feeling it
are all *******
defining love loves to be defined.

Defining love loves to dance
head off into
a moving with the music
trance
defining love wants to be defined
using no words
defining love aches for romance.

Defining love takes only prisoners
places hearts in solitary confinement
hopefully not condemned to others
or
alone again.

Defining love sometimes laughs
sometimes it comes
in a gasp.

The perfect
orchid
rose
lily
defining love is natural
no artificial ingredients
the only preservative
is
called life.

Defining love finally settles down
and comes around for acceptance
tenderness
a
child that sleeps in pure innocence
what really matters
is
the innocence
within us
all.

I sat
on the love seat
staring out the window.

I knew you knew

You had a heart of gold
a sweet companion
a
**** nature too
well known
on the pathway to enlightenment

You knew I knew

My mind had absorbed
too many years
of
being witness
too
to much misery
and you were so kind.

We both had touched each other
without makeup, costumes or disguise.

You didn't know
I had a fatal flaw
that
kept me alone
but
I knew it far too well.

I didn't know
but
you knew
your eyes said yes
but
your heart says "no".

No wonder
we both
had one hand out
saying,  "stop"
While
the other hand
beckoned
to come forward

Push
pull
approach
avoidance

Neither of us knew
we were meant for another.

I
got up to close the window
as the breeze turned cold
and the sun went down.

In your ship of
white sheets
you set the sail
you leave the shorelines
of consciousness
and begin to drift
from the docks of reality.

First you cast your fantasies
then your visions
in hypnagogic imagery
cast you
as you wait for the winds
to take you
into the currents of unconscious seas.

what do you see?
what do you experience?

Those living memories
of
other places
other times
other lives
a string of faces
a hotel with many rooms
and no exit signs
and
as you open doors
on different floors
you find
yourself
at different ages
on different stages
familiar terrors
sometimes vivid
make you shutter
falling into
quicksands of blood.

On the roof of this sea
you take flight
and are free
when you hit the heights
you're in your car
with a stranger and me
we give you directions
and
at each turn progressively lost
panic sets in
late for work and can't find the way
your GPS
keeps pointing to the fact you're here.

Small craft warnings come and go
the lighthouse beckons you back home
to the shoreline and the dock
but first you crawl into the
arms of the sexist soul
you know
as your finger tips touch
this night's
journey is done
as
your alarm
sings out
The Four Seasons.

Headlong to the shore you ride
your breath is taken away
you throw your rope to the dock
of reality
and have that moment
of longing and wonder
when dreams can be life
and
life can be dreams.

A big sigh.

You've bought your ticket
for
tomorrow night's voyage
where it will go
you just don't know
but
when you get there please let us know.

You get out of that
cozy warm white sheet ship
and
put on clothes
with the sunrise
and
the half cut moon
your traveling companions
into
your awakening.

I
actually feel sorry for him
my
extension
my
avatar

I
wake him
every morning
no matter how sleepy he is
get him out of bed before sunrise
while I hide
deep inside.

He arises
to reply
respond
put out
and
deny.

A hook through the nose
to
catch the bucks
and
cast him out into that
old main stream
where he does his perfect avatar thing
he dances jigs
he placates
he sings
he says please and thank you
can I get you anything
the fingers
waving
at
him
no longer mean a thing.

A master of the palms up
he
can
always say
"who? Not me."

And
when his day is done
I
reel him in
remove
what ever little bucks
he
caught

Sit him down
in
front of the t.v.
gin and juice
and
dancing images too.

Give him a sleeping pill
so he sleeps so sound
no dreams
to
disturb
his life
and routine
a
brown nosed role
in
the
consumer machine.

I
slip
him
into bed
and
sometimes in the late night
I
hear
him weeping.

In
the morning
I
get him up
to
do
the same **** thing .

Long may you run
my daughter,
my son.

Long may you dance
to the songs
of
many suns.
Long may you feel
my love
after I am un done.

Long may you
head into the light
may your heart
open
with each breath,
as night comes again.

May you
have
someone by your side
for
the long ride
to
climb inside
and
find the peace of home
for a long long time.

May your eyes
continue to shine
find
the blessing in each sorrow
at
the end of the line.

Long may you run
my daughter,
my son.

Long may youth
burn so bright
inside
Despite the cards dealt
the obstacles felt
the ties that bind
the ribbons of time.

Long may you run
my daughter,
my son.

Long may you laugh
let friendships hold you
creativity flourish
in
brilliant flashes

May your heart
stay true
to do what you need to do

Long may you run
my daughter,
my son.

Though
time and distance
may separate us
across the continents
across the oceans
where ever we may find ourselves
I
send this birthday wish
to you
long may you run
my daughter,
my son.

The
faces of flowers
speak
to me
through perfect
mandalas.

I'm a dead man walking
dead man talking
dead man running to his grave.
I would have stayed if I wasn't so afraid
adding and subtracting
all the mistakes I have made.

I never could have stayed
it never would have worked  out that way.
In the end was that last smile
and saying,
"I'll see you down the road after a while."

I'm a dead man walking
a dead man talking
a dead man running towards my grave.

My crimes
they have been small
mostly involving
self harm
The self-inflicted wounds
are stings that last the longest time.

I'm a dead man walking
a dead man laughing
a dead man running towards my grave.

I have always tried my best
to be as loving as I can
little acts of kindness
now and then
Even have submerged myself
in others
talking their pain

I'm a dead man walking
a dead man falling
a dead man running to my grave.

Many small crimes
many petty misdeameanors
never meant to hurt you
only wanted to touch you
but all these judgments
all this self-incrimination
can't be undone

Too many
justifications, rationalizations,
too many words to say
too much water? the bridge has washed away
I don't think I could ever explain

Even for a dead man running
let's just say
"one touch on the hand
and
I'll be on my way."

I
still hear
voices
but now
we all get along.

Transitionary lovers rarely remain
if you think about why this is too long
it will probably drive you insane.

Nobody really knows.

When you left the wife
left the life
left the husband
left the strife
at
least for a little while

You are

caught up in the sparkling, twinkling, incandescent
glowing opiates of love
finally
no pain remained.

There are
Smiles all around.

We danced so close in
night clubs like cruise ships
sailing to no where
and
no where to go

But
you are
leaving her
leaving him
leaving them
trying to forget what you already know.

Transitionary lovers rarely remain.

This one will be different
we are so different
we found this magic
and it will
be maintained
as
Days together go by
weeks and months too

But

In the end
the transitionary lover may have sparked
the change
from
here
to
there

The homes which were cozy
once again become lonely.

Life becomes a parking lot motel
staring out the window at the heat
displaced
trying to convince yourself
this is not too bad.

Transitionary lovers rarely remain
and
both of us will be on to the next one
Falling back into the routines
of
life, love, stability

Awaiting again for that transitory lover
to
take us where we need to go.

Don't hold up
any mirrors
don't say a word
We are going to take a ride
to the ****** centers
of the mind
where
every neuron
sparks lighting of desire
and
in this breathing silence
there are no lies.

No please and thank you
no apologies are necessary
no one ever said abandonment
should be polite.

So let's make this silent vow
to keep this sacred circle
even in the harsh sunlight
of our cluttered houses
and in our cluttered little lives.

I stopped
inside a light house
on a dark and foggy night
and in the beacon
in the fog
I saw far too many sights.

Lovers lost in their pasts
uncompleted tasks
of shoulda coulda wouldas
"If only's"
blocking their
paths.

The ferrel human beings
with eyes of gold
but no money
to buy a room
running to nowhere soon.

The poetry outlaws
with no words
left to sing
lost within their prisons
and know one knows
what they mean.

The beacon flashed
and in the light
I saw those
trapped in drudgery
and fading dreams
of being free.

And lonely souls
in darkened rooms
of four white walls
with no where to go
and no one coming that they know.

The beacon flashed
in that fog
the horn it rang
to no one listening
but the ships lost at sea
heard something
but asked themselves
was it really meant for me?

It
Spotlighted lovers
on the far sides
of the bed
their love lost
in what is now
misery and dread.

Wage slaves breathing toxic air
and what's this life for
their breath asks
captured in the foggy air.

Stopped at that lighthouse
to look out at that foggy sea
was all about the poetry
and what it means to me
a light
on a foggy
populated sea
and
life told in scenes
about
those who struggle to be free.

Life somehow finds its way
cracks in the concrete
a rose
Neon in the desert night miles away.
Ancient lakes
beneath thousands of years of ice
blind beings buried in the sands
on the winds
in your eyelids
Life somehow finds its way.

On city streets
tented encampments
brutal abuse
where all should be dead
Life somehow finds a way.

The wounded
tormented by years of sorrow
even when all others succumb.
Somehow life finds its way.

Having babies in the fields
Plague in the gardens
Epidemic on the concrete
Wars in the jungle
Somehow life finds a way.

It has been said
over specialization leads to extinction
species come and go
will it now always be so?

Has the last bell rung?
has the last song been sung?
Is this the end of us?
I guess mankind will decide
whether we are here or not up for the ride.

Or
on planets around distance suns
perhaps
life has somehow found its way.

She was once a true love of mine
She treated me so kind
She came to me
when I was stuck
when my heart was dark
and shed
her loving light on me

She held me close
and
kissed my lips
brought
warmed wash clothes
and
******
to bathe away my pain.

When she was done with me
she moved me along
to
the crummy little apartment
by
the river
the perfect spot for me.

Life is lived
in chapters
one after the other
She once was a true love of mine.

On the stage
under the lights
in front of the auditorium seats
a
Sneering, jeering, laughing
audience at
one on the stage
The spinning shimmering
hologram
of
all my fears
reluctance
guard rails
concrete barriers
perpetrators
and
victims too
rememberings
and
anticipation
stood

Connected to me
by
a long tether
And
along that tether
my
power flowed
away from me

Into the performing
Mannequin
on
that stage.
Who was the puppet master?

In a moment of freedom
or was it just pique
with my golden scissors
the
tether was
cut.

The shimmering stood
for a moment on stage
the crowd became silent
and
looked away.

In my moment
of release
I wished it well
compassion and peace
and
I was finally free.

In the present
we're all here
We all know that
except you of course.

A river turns
three dimensional
when you've
been on it for a while.
The past runs down that river
becoming
smaller and smaller
a fish eye lens closing
until it disappears
into a memory

impossible to verify

Did I dream it
Was I told it
Did I see it on tv
Did it even happen to me?

How did I get there
Who was that person
What did they want
And what did I give them?

Memory is an echo
that rides on the currents of light
the song being sung
the perfume scent of something familiar
the look on a face in the crowd
the laughter floating through the neighborhood

Nightmares flashbacks
terror
too

Ok

Turn on the lights
it's just you.

Memory
this connection with "me"
yes
I was there
that was me
and
it all adds up to identity
connection with one's past
the narrative of our lives
the soundtrack of our times

but no more sorrow
no more melancholy
look around
it's the present
we're all here
your not
alone.

No matter
how old we
are
No matter
how old they are
it is always
too soon.

Running down that Ecstasy Highway
as fast as my little legs can carry me
I'm blind as a bat with ear plugs
But we  were both
searching through this night time
skyway
reaching out to touch some one
and be touched.

All the guide books said this is the way,
turn right at Desire
turn left at Oblivion
and head on down
to the
neon lights, you can't miss it
as long as you are riding that
Ecstasy Highway.

I was told
some people find it at the end of a needle
others wait for the drop of the cards
and there are those who throw themselves
off that mountain side cliff looking for the winds to ride.
Some find it laying with you.

I've gone somewhere else I can't describe
made a wrong turn
thought it was a Transcendental highway
maybe
because I've been up and down,
made wrong turns right and left
made a wrong turn
at the corner of Sanctuary and Bliss.
I'd ask directions but there is not a soul around,
smacking my GPS
lost beyond words
with nothing familiar
in
neighborhoods looming
stark cracked out buildings
and
broken street lights
people with apocalyptic eyes
even the cops won't come down here any more
and the only help I've found
the only guide I have
is delusional and lost
though occasionally profound
dressed in piercings and tatoos
and she keeps yelling at me
something about going home to you.

Too tired to go on.

Had lost that bat back at the beginning of dawn
finally sat down at the coffee shop
at the corner
of
Love and Compassion
ordered up some hot self-acceptance
took a breath and looked around
still looking for the way back home.
I know it's just down the road
a stop light or so
maybe there's an on ramp
or a sign pointing out the way
to get back
on that
Ecstasy Highway.

I stopped at a gas station
talked to a guy
who told me lefts and rights
but my eye lids fluttered
fell asleep
right when he told me what I wanted to know
and when I opened my eyes
the station was closed
not a soul around
and I was running down
unfamiliar roads.

So if you hear a small lost voice
in the night
that's probably the sound of me
standing at the crossroads
of
Self-pity and Remorse
knocking at the Post Office
trying to mail these words
at a place that been long closed.
Please give me a hug or two
and send me on my way
if you give me any advice
I probably won't hear a word you say.
You see
I'm trying to make my way
back again
to that
Ecstasy Highway.

Advertisement for methamphetamine 10W

You do
enough speed
long enough
you will
become
paranoid.


Of endings I think a lot/10 W

Have you
ever noticed how
everything
inevitably
comes
to
end.


Reverse Paranoia/ 5W

You think
you're
following
somebody.

Take me my darling
take me my love
take me
somewhere
I've never been before.
Take me my love
take me my darling
to a world
of make believe
where I can be you
and
you can be me
where surrender
is a victory
and
screams are whispers
of
"I love you".

Take me my darling
take me my love
give me all you know
or
ever knew.
Where we both have paid our dues.
and
have nothing to lose.
No more silence
no more rouge
all
masks are started a new
when I am kissing you.

Give me a circle
give me a square
give me a triangle
make me a dare
to face that fear.

Take me my darling
take me my love
take me on a voyage
and
leave me
there.

The sheets
are on the windows
to
protect  the night from rising
sunlight
take me my darling
take me
there.

Create
the art
of
your vision.
Another's job
is critic.

The fruit of the BlackBerry
so sweet on a summer's night.
But those thorns
will
slice and cut
and leave you stuck
you get to close.

For my brother
he sees the berries
and only feels the thorns.
For my sister
she sees the thorns
and
only tastes the perfect
summer sweetness.

She sleeps in peace
He disappears each night.

Her days are filled
with hopeful delights.

His nights are dark
with demons
and
vice
left anxious deranged and raw.
He looks at the morning
and fears
the night.

She embraces the darkness
and
awaits the dawning light.

When I see God I'm going to ask 'em*
How many chords of wood have I stacked
how many lovers never came back
how many faux pas
how many miscues
how many meanings didn't I do.

When I see God I'm going to ask 'em
What's the most disgusting thing I ever ate
and
who.

When I see God I'm going to ask 'em
Why the birds are always laughing
In 60 million years is that what we are going to do
and what do the redwoods
think about
is that what five thousand years of life
will do
and where did the joy go
ten minutes ago ?

If I see God I'm going to ask 'em
for the perfect poem
the perfect mirror
the perfect thought
the perfect silence
I'm going to ask 'em
to sing one more time
the cosmic hum.

If I see God I'm going to ask 'em
to kiss the ocean
embrace the desert
kiss the mountains
bless the rivers
love the people
I'll tell 'em to love them
as we're supposed to.

And if I see God I'm going to ask 'em
what's the meaning
what's the purpose
what's the solution
and
of course
What the ****?

When
I was five years old
my grandfather
took me to
a pond
probably in New Jersey
but who really knows where
lost back there.
The sun was setting
the light was golden
with god rays
floating through the trees and clouds
reflected
in the water.
The fish were surfacing rising
jumping here and there.
Innocence peace perfection.

I was in awe of life
and
to young to know
what this moment would become.

The beacon
the lighthouse
on the edge
calling me
showing me
the way home.

As exaggeration
has set in
with aging and pain
the moment became
the symbol
in my dreams
trying to make it back
to that
New Jersey pond
and
depending on
the state of my life and mind
in my dreams
I
would see it over there
sometimes
hanging in the air
in distorted images
of
cold wicked docks
sitting on
dry desert lands.

No water
no grandfather
no peace
alone
in exposed
and vulnerable landscapes
and
sometimes the water
was just over there
But
I was lost
in rooms which had no doors
and eyes that had no windows.

Standing on an island
surrounded by water
but
no setting sun
no rising fish
no grandfather to hold me up
on that island
spinning.

The beacon calls
I have always been moving
towards
that
perfect moment
with the sun setting
the fish rising
my grandfather holding my hand
a piece of peace
forever the end of my path.

Question
Are we there yet?
Answer
We're always there.
Silence.

The dance
was done
when they reached
for the gun
Where does
all of this violence
come from?

So many children
So many children
So many lives undone
So much unfinished
So much disappointments
as families weep
to a god
or
universe
with an
insatiable hunger for death.

The slaughter factories
have had
their centuries.

This little blue ball and moon
a tiny spot of light
when seen from Mars
certainly could
bring forth
an expanding
light of peace
which covers every inch
and in this light
the
horror will cease
as
everything will be in order.

The grandfather dies
The father dies
The child dies
and
all will fulfill
the
organic nature
of
their evolving lives.

This common vision quest
within
This common prayer
out there...

Ate lunch
alone in
high school
yes.
That was me.

For my mother
Upon her arrival
Once the cold white warrior
softened
through wisdom and experience
In your love
I hear my own
Communicated softly.

Your presence through time
an anchor
an edge
a clarity of mind
a witness
in the kindness of others
who in your presence
became
melodic spirits
encased in kindness.

How did you ever hold so much power?

Shiny youth and age
remind one
of the ocean's waves come crashing
always the same
always different
a moment
one after the other
here and gone forever.

In that flavor I taste the sea air's
serenity
as I
as you gave to me
and
I held you there
a vast marvel of
endless wind blown currents
holding one mystery after another.

My dear Mother
upon your arrival
as you blessed me
I bless you
In your infinite grace.

Remember
the
good and bad
news
Time
keeps on passing.

There's
no fiction
which is
more
perfect
than the
truth.

If your
expectations
are
in line with reality
no rejection.

There is a constant mystery
which beckons me.

We go about our time
in
clickety clakity clarity
routine
clockwork puppets
marching in time
to
bad relationships
toxic jobs
frozen states of mind
wed to routine
married to the grind.

When a mild minor
barely alive flickering
a little flame
smaller than a bic lighter
ignites
and
the straight and narrow
develops
not just a *** hole or sinkhole
but
a geyser that shoots you out.

The next moment
you're taking your clothes out of the closet
walking out of an office with the meeting waiting
getting on a plane
lining up for a train
hopping in the car
Sayonara.

Revolution is in the air
the program has changed
you sit in that rocking chair
the last piece of furniture
in
an ending chapter
and
realizing
the previous moments of life
the identity of who you once were
is
dead and gone
all that had defined you is done.

This is the mystery
which speaks to me
in
deaths and resurrection
rebirth
what begins as a decision
becomes the riding
of
a wave
crashing
thrashing
heading for the sand
heading for the light
will I be all right
praying to Jesus
wondering
where you'll emerge
as melancholy
longing
displacement
excitement too
reigns
and
the change
the revolution concludes
and
you become
a
new form of you.

Knock
Knock
Please
I am hungry
a
tired voice said.

Novices
Our love
stands on stilts
twisting weaving
struggling
to maintain balance
a strong wind
could tip us
a pulsating bass
could trip us.

Eye to eye
but yet
so
high
wobbling.

Trying to find
our footing
if we lean to close
we are bound
to
stumble and fall.

But your breath so sweet
kerosene
beneath my wooden feet
ignites
the fire
too hot to handle.
Have you ever tried
taking off
your clothes
when
eight feet high?

**** the stilts
she cried
and in
mid air embrace
rotating in ****** embrace
the stilts were gone
my legs were gone
circling each other
round and round
We fell
Calling for that
one true sound.

In simultaneous
bliss
a holler
a harkens
Link's Zelda song
a lightening storm
we screamed
for the sound
of our
exquisite joy
and
far too fast
we crashed
to the ground.

I'm dying
I said to my wife
she said you're right.
She never did editorialize.

I'm dying
I said to my children
my children said
you're funny dad
way too wild.

I'm dying
I said to my job
They smiled
Your job
we have others
we can rob.

I'm dying
I said to the redwoods
they laughed out loud
your life span is the same as a cow.

I'm dying
I said to the owl
the owl said
who not you.

I'm dying
I said to my truth
My truth said
no doubt.

I'm dying
I said to my life
my life said
you're next.