Water; the pure blood
of the earth tickles the rocky shores,
liquid congregation on the beach.
Race, religion and creed are forgotten
on the beaches of Dahab.

People are living,
an empty police station devoid
of lawmen--
they're swimming with people in the blood of the earth
on the beaches of Dahab.

Raggae and Spanish music waft
in the **** and hashish scented air,
as the people cool in the blood of the earth,
on the beaches of Dahab.

Living free and open,
far from the religious obligations and hungry lust stares in Cairo
people are tanning, laughing, drinking, being
in the blood of the earth,
on the beaches of Dahab.

A Brittish psychedelic
Benjamin Button.

Maverick explorer
54 years young.

A groovy dude connected to Dahab since the 70's.
Sure doesn't hurt he knows the folks who own the land.

A kindly herb surgeon, the man knows how
to live, give and roll a spliff.

Enjoyed your company
swapping stories and smokes.

Keep on,
hang loose
and be cool.

but that could be said of anywhere.
However, some places
seem to have hypnotic hips and easy eyes
with a mischevious, seductive scarab grin.
Like magic, it pulls me in.
Here, labels like good or bad are trite,  
there is only this magnetic whirling
energy culling myself and others inside
simply because we picked up the phone and showed up.

But now it's our responsibility to find balance
amidst serene listless apathy on the beach
and party hardy into the midnight arty energy scene jack & coke down the rabbit hole we go.

Some Bedouins say Dahab means "time  goes,"
which has me convinced Moses and his folks weren't lost
in terms of location but lost when it relates to time,
trying to find a middle path
between excess and sloth
in this south Sinai town.


Yes, not two but three schools of thought,
forming a triangle in this hypnotizing spiral;
two points of excess and one of balance!
All three balance each other,
and it's hell trying to stay in the center of this eye
of this metaphorical storm of enlightenment.
Naturally, gravitational forces pull some to the
gray matter island headspace of echoed sins
and carnivorous lascivious pandemonium.  
Not everyone will find what they seek on the warm beaches here,
or the raving, bubble foam dance parties in strobe light nights.
That's just the way it is;
there's not enough room for everyone in the center.

And this is where we learn to accept ones place,
because only then can we move on to another plane,
on another beach with more to learn and some to teach.

If you watch closely,
even in stillness
some part of him is always moving,
a foot tapping,
fingers drumming--
eyes darting
mouth chatting...
his words spiral:

*Everything has a frequency,
you--me, he--she and even them over there.
Naturally,
some frequencies attract others
and we call that masculine and feminine energy.
Some try to label it and say
women focus on the details while men see things from an outside objective.
But others say the exact opposite
which in turn brings balance
which shows everything is nothing and nothing is everything.

In this way, life is confusing, which makes sense.

But you can't deny the frequency.
It goes beyond simply male and female, fish, rock, tree and so forth and so on and so on.
Every area has it's own sound, it's own vibe--
this core sound matches everything about that place,
from the buildings to religion.
Languages in each area have its own rhythm
to match the tone.
India and that area has the AUM,
Middle East has the prayer,
Asia has it's own thing and so forth and so on and so on.

You cannot stop hearing it once you do.  
We are connected through this.
That's why speaking isn't necessary
to connect with others. It's helpful,
but unnecessary.
Connection is when
gazes synchronize across the bar,
CHEERS
even when you can 'feel' someone watching
CHEERS
or there's a familiarity with someone you just met
CHEERS
or when a person stirs something inside
you are unable to not feel your soul flutter
or in your case, write things down.

Never sits still unless
he's passed out on the floor,
playful smile hides wise eyes
as his beard talks to us
after communion with a bottle of Jack
and rolling down the rabbit hole:

*We have been going before the beginning
It's not what you know but how you apply it
Ancient knowledge is knowledge now
We follow what is right for us

Everything was a miracle once

When **** is happening, it's ****
it's only not **** once it's happened already.

Everything is general,
what we do is specific.

We're fighting to get past so many archetypes and realities:
nature vs. nurture
fight vs. flight
yin vs. yang
Right vs. left
male vs. female
analytical vs. emotional
visual vs. verbal  
majority vs. minority
experience vs. innocence

What's the point of distance
when you can see yourself on another plane of existence
and not simply see yourself consciously?

When you see yourself, who are you?
You know who you are because when you ask the universe
it will arrive in time!

For some, certain places
hold a rather mythic oeuvre
in our veins; they are seen as places of magic.

Maybe a cyclist couple
have spent most of their money
on traveling  the world for their blog,
their last stop is New York City
so that they may get pictures of themselves
at places like The Brooklyn Bridge, Lady Liberty
& that megalithic skyline reaching the clouds.
Or maybe a foodie from Wisconsin
just wants to try Famous Ben's Pizza on the West Side
because its New York ******' New York pizza.

Maybe a doe-eyed screenwriter skips
his flat square suburban town
to sell his words and soul to the sprawling sunny L.A
where dreams are made in pixels.

Maybe some New Age beaded wrist to ankle lady
spent her life savings to jump over the ocean
to visit the ancient pyramids built for a purpose
yet fully known.

Maybe a bearded dude
visits Easter Island to try and understand
the complexities of his ancestors while
soaking in the rich vastness of nature around.


Maybe I used to see places this way. Probably...


But in these places people live!
It's not mythology to them.

Maybe every night a homeless man prays
& begs for food on the late night A-train in NYC.

Maybe a middle-aged fading blonde couple
spend their time in L.A at a health food store
to recoup the savings they lost joining a cult way back when.

Maybe a Swedish teen  traverses the trash
and littered-burned streets of Giza everyday
on her way to work
hoping funny looks aren't shot her way
for the way she dresses
or shouted at by bearded Salafi men.

Maybe a rare species of bug is unknowingly stepped on
in Easter Island.

Today, i see magic in getting lost on the NYC subway.
I found magic mythology on the beaches of Dahab,
80 miles away from Cairo.
I see magic in the mythologies,
while others live it,
        the daily grind.

*It's all around if you know where to look.