Wednesday, August 18, 2004

On Slow Day

Why go on this way or that
What meaning in that way of being
or this thing of concern
which will burn up the hours of the day
searing the senses
the cause of decay

Looking at the plumbers crack
in front of the face
missing the grand canyon beyond

Today my eyes opened to see
gold and green bamboo
radiant in the first rays of the morning

My ears heard the stream running
and the birds song
and the tall bamboo
rubbing along each other in the wind

My hands felt my body
feeling my hands
feeling it
and my mind was calm for no reason
from no reason

A short walk
let the dog off the chain
pick a purple lilikoi from the vine
a papaya is found and eaten

writing in the tent with little thought

Call to Carrye
long talk makes time seem short

Burrito bought with pilfered change
hot coffee bought with same
burrito is cut in thirds
to serve as three squares for the day

Roll some scrappy shake
make a fat smoke

Read from a bible
I found in a parking lot
the owner has yet to pick it up
I make use of the resource while I have it

rest in the evening
under net in the tent
Kolohe dog outside the door

Awake with a start
call Caroline in Cali
stalker tormentor at her door
afraid to call the police

Police she will call
she hangs up the phone
I take the advise of the book

Monday, August 16, 2004

Fresh Genius

I feel as though I've walked into a pool of fresh genius
I see a form being filled
with conscious intention
something is happening
the shape is impressive
taking on a life of its own

An Order Beyond Structure

Poetry evokes the spirit
wispy lines of fragile form
frame the face of an experience
behind the letters
between the lines
something breathes
thought forms
open their eyes
and see you

FD&C Yellow No. 5

Creating an atmosphere of expectation
to over ride the lamentations of whole nations hooked on dope

Hope for something real but made to feel it as indulgence?

I sit with pen again to break it down for you
to show the many what too few know

It's time to go

The body of humanity has fallen to its knees
face planted in FD&C Yellow #5
commercial food slime turnes our viens into gutters

We hide behind our shutters turning our backs on each other
embracing the dictated of a box :

We undress in shame
taking blame for not looking like the arbitrary shape of the day

There are opportunities off the beaten track
outside the prescribed
there is substance here

It takes a lot to claim a spot in the middle of the ocean
make a splash here and waves ripple everywhere

Pushed from behind
shoved from above
led by the madness of consensus
movement arrested by conned senses
minds media shocked into oblovion

a doorway
for what we don't want
to enter into our lives

We can close the door on fear
and trust life

Fear the situation?
Fear is the situation that needs to be addressed.

Tacky Words

The ink of the pen
endangers not the ocean
but indirectly
it shapes our perceptions
if it
I doubt the ability
of the words in my head
to capture the truth
of this moment
tacky syntax
adheres to the face
of this reality
taking an impression
forming a mask of deception
between us and it
and now
we sit
in closed proximity
infinity clothed in us
looking deeply
open eyes
feeling fully
awake and alive
thrill ride
I don't want to come
I want to stay
right here
I don't want to say
how I feel
about this
bliss doesn't do it
position of limbs
skin on skin
something beyond
me and you
comes through
one two and three
as one
before the
how-we feel-about-what-happened
keeps us from happening
and forever
timeless moments
shaped in truth

Late Now: past 01:00

Brother Jason rolls It up
an hour or two ago
Now I'm home

The roach comes through the blue tube
chok Smok

the Air is calm
the Starlight comes through
unmollested by the Wind

A prayer to the Stars
and the Moon behind the Trees
and the Mountains
and the Ocean to my right
all in Sight
and all Unseen
in synch with Thee
waking Dream

A conscious creative Being
with a considerate Will
too much to ask?

consciously engageing
with creative Beings
with considerate Wills
in harmonious Relation
with all Else

wouldn't That be a gig?
That's It Man

Friday, August 13, 2004

Where am I?

Thursday, Dec 13th, 2001 - Ahuimanu, Kahalu'u, O'ahu, Hawai'i

Where am I? What happened? Who am I?
Mad scratching
Kolohe in the doghouse

Looking up
the twelve spoked web on the top of the tent
17 feet wide

Recurring tides of rip ripping gusts
sound the weathered tarp above
the trees sound the alarm
the tarp and tent respond

Buzz and chirping bugs score the night
Mauka air chills feet
dirty rug better than naked wood

tent shakes
loose stakes
the bugs fade behind
a solo of the wind

feels like I'm under water
rain guard mimics rushing river
rolling surf
pounding waves

I like the bugs better

Rain now

Lighting a candle
want to see some fire
spastic flame
flickering in time
with the rustling above

Smoking a rollie
sending off a prayer
with the smoke:

The microcosm of my being
in harmonious relation
with else

Tent walls shaking
web undulating

Bong waiting

Hydrating myself with a squirt bottle
no reason other than
water jug sitting in the wind
out there

Nose cold

Brushing off mud
that came from my shoes
walking Kolohe in the rain

Left eye sports a tear
evoked by the pulling of a hair
from my nose

Some wooden thing sounds
knocked over by the wind avalanch

Bong waiting

Three feet of smoke

Eating frito's
and hydrating myself
with a squirt bottle

Chewing sounds rude
the bugs have resumed
chanting out a country night
dogs barking

City hum breezes in
as the wind dies down
comes in like waves
with each passing commuter car
returing from bars
at this hour

Where am I?
here I am

What happened?
Nobody can say

Who am I?
I am...

it's simple

Pay attention
Listen with suspension of belief

Cockroach on arm of chair
at first I thought
it was giving birth
looked like one
had crawled in to the butt
of another
but it was one
with eight legs
mutant cockroach

Pearl Harbor

What have we done with our freedom?

Pearl Harbor happened, sixty years ago. It brought the Americans into a war that the soldiers saw a righteous, noble, necessary.

At the Punchbowl National Cemetery words carved in stone tell the living that the dead died not in vain. A clear call to arms put the innocent in harms way. Lives sacrificed for the idea of freedom.

The enemy: overt and unashamed of it's designs on the world. The spin doctors not relied on so heavily. The human appetite demonstrates its might. An early phase of a borderless world achieved by political rapacity.

A war was fought. Lines redefined. Concentrated power reassigned. Surviving soldiers returned as heros, liberators.

On December 7th, America remembers that infamous attack on U.S. military instilations on the Island of O'ahu. We mourn the dead. We recognize the living that lived through it. Honour the warriors.

I wonder if we don't also placate and pacify them. Young soldiers walked their lives into battle: hand to hand, bayonet and fist, mathematically, academically, and with machines of modern wizardry. For God, for Country, for Destiny.

What have we done with what they fought to foster in this world?

The war ended with the defeat of the Axis Powers. What the Axis represented continued unabated: commercial conformity, consumer culture, industrial servitude, convienience addiction, nationalistic xenophobia, media consolidation, economic enslavement. We answer "here!" when called a human resource. A resource like coal, oil, or water.

We still have the freedom to question the wisdom of our "elected" officials. What will we do with it?

Sunrise in Kahala

Monday, Dec 10th ,2001

Sunrise in Kahala.
Crashed at Shree and Hiroko's last night. Another open mic up and over. Next week we hit the four month mark.

Nothing routine about the Sunday night thing
Fluctuating numbers flowing through a steady scene
Something is happening here
Embers are burning with restrained flames.

Not yet.
Not yet.
Don't want to get too hot
burn the lot
Let the smoke signal those
with a nose for this kind of thing
don't need to waste my breath
blowing on the fragile coals
the winds of change
feed the flames on their own

Not weaned from the page
to shy to rage eye to eye
firefly glow in the night
soft and green pulsing
a natural night light
for the light sleepers

Monday, August 09, 2004

The Sun Does Not Set

Thursday night, Kahalu'u - October 10:ish

Quite burnable
Smell the smoke

Sit and watch the bodies spinning
grinning with bliss and malice
they collide with one and other
rolling over the confused and used up
spinning out
turning in
spinning from beginning
turning into something
dancing with nothing
and all its forms

Dizzy blue green Turtle Island
caught in the spell of the Sun
Man on the Moon amused to watch
the trancing turtle
a fertile dichotomy
day light
night long
caught in the trap of right and wrong

the beat of the song
of the people on the turtle
frightened of the dark
worshiping the day
the shadow side is evil

A killer scam
the man that planned
the fleecing of the people
on this sphere
keep the fear of the night
in spite of our awareness
that it is but the shadow side
of ourselves

The Sun doesen't set
it is we who do the turning
we are in no danger of the darkness
swallowing us up

The rays of the Sun
sweet and warm
or fierce and hot
pale in the vastness of space
The Sun is but a form of light
a flimsy guise
that not all eyes see through

Living in a Tent

Wednesday, Sept. 12, 2001

No water
No phone
No rent

Bananas hanging
from center pole of tent

Almost tripped on a coconut last night
no light
A gift from the neighbor yesterday

Body bent and spent from carrying cement

A gust of wind sounds wind chime
Zoe sounds in response
almost feeding time

Thousands dead and dying in New York


Mosquito Bites

A Wednesday in July, 2001

not tired
Drinking coffee anyway

Long day
coasting down
engine off
rolling down the way
the path of least resistance

that's me
I am the mesenger and the message
being who I am

I don't try to be a good person
don't believe in good or evil

I am who I am
a factor in the whole plan

every moment a unique experience

I've never been here before
not quite

this place
another day
same day
another time
same time
different socks

If I were to connect the dots
left by the mosquitos
the design will be different
Diffferent than yesterday
Different from tomorrow.

Each bite disturbed my thoughts
for a moment
each bite caused an action
or reaction
Every day the mosquitos play the sadist
risking massacre
or inspiring sadism in return.

Bloody Words

Let me catch my breath
A few deep breaths

This kind of funk used to stress me out
depress me out of the game
old same old same old
same cold relations
with the bodies of our body
this body of our race

A few deep breaths
fill up the chest with boyancy

Bloody words:
I'm not getting the rush off of them that I used to

A solid writing session
A tight poem
a literary image-

They used to keep me high for weeks
The danger of the deep?
Maybe the nature of the deep

Keep breathing
Life after the rush

What compells me
to leave the kick behind?

How to outshine the tricks of mind

Got to read the signs
instead of driving blinded
by my own agendas

What do I see around me?
beyond the deeply carved and graffitied grooves of thought?


Sunday, August 4th, 2001- Kaimuki

As far back as the origins of the written language we can find rants and testimonials of hermits, prophets and serious men bemoaning the sorry state of affairs that people have wrought upon the face of the Earth.

Splitting from the consensus views, the objective perspective balks at the "unnatural " order that defines civic culture.

For thousands of years the unshaven have cursed the joiners, the players of the city game.

All the same the game playes on, and the Gaian voice squeaks ungreased through the harsh throats of those closest to Her.

Have the desert dwellers been deluded fools that swooned to the influences of a terra-centric tyrant of the 4th dimension?

Perhaps the servents of progress are tied into a far more expansive reality.

Maby the hermit has unknowingly assumed the roll of cranky custodian of the Earth factory, bitching about the messy unconscious passing through the earth gig.

Mayby the Judeo-Christian God is just an arrogant shift boss managing the human resources assigned to him.

Going over Gods Head can make the earth work environment a living hell.

Or not.

Cosmic Labor Union?

Tuesday, August 03, 2004


Quality Programming

July 5th, 2001

Virtual corporate encampments
fostering product awareness
shepherding herds of humans
dimming the lumins

"Do not disturb the consumer units!"

Hazy gazing at the blinking blue

What is it?
What is going on?
What is going on that we can agree upon?
What can humanity
point to and say:
I concur
I'm with you there
I see that

Where religions failed
Corporations excelled
Who doesn't know
Coke is It?

Who doesn't have America on their minds?

In the cloud kissing corner offices of advertising firms you will find the media popes and marketing wizards practicing the ancient art of enchantment, casting spells for a fee, not concerned with the nature of their work, commanding the attention of billions to sell us things we don't need.

The wizards compel us to pay corporate pushers to exploit what should be the inheritance of the species, and all related, in order to feed the fix of the corporate livestock, the human resources, the consumer units: inventory of the corporate herdsmen.

What product loyalty has your mind been branded with?

Tear down the billboards that separate you from the landscape of your mind and look into the wilds of your imagination.

Where in your mind can you find a place free of the tripe dumped into your consciousness by others?

What we hold in our minds
manifests in time

Our thoughts foster possibility

The revolution was televised

The nations of the world have been wrestled into compliance
with colossal corporate entities
Market forces stormed the planet
commandeered our resources
violated the integrity of our ecosystems
contracted our governments and peoples
to exploit their lands at untold
though not unforeseen

Know this:
The programs are not interrupted by the commercials
it is the commercials that are interrupted by the programs

Now... A Word from Our Sponsor

First tues. in June 2001 - Big City Diner

So close...
so close...
so close...

I'm there
Always been there
been here
Damn the fear that keeps me out
the doubt that the con won't be balanced by the pro
no stop without a go
no go without a stop

What are we going to do?
me and you?
Are we going to fight about what is "right"
dwell on some slight that no one really remembers?
as the world we love is reduced to embers?

What does it matter who started it?
we all have our part in it
the head and the heart of it
our dance is the art of it

We have the option of tuning into the televised reality
of opening the floodgate of the mainstream
and allowing its programming
to rush into our passive minds

"and now a word from our sponsor"

we can actively cut a door
through the media prescribed consumerist facade
and show a way out

All the cool people are doing it

I think it is fully possible
for people without ties titles or strongly held convictions
to have perceptions of great value to you and I

In these marvelous and mysterious times
in which humanity finds itself
there seems to be an uncharacteristic reticence
when it comes to publicly voicing outrage
in the face of blatant and brutal transgressions against nature

More money
more "wealth"
more pacifyers in the mouth

Once we've seen it
it's up to us to be it
get it out
express it people
move it

Cracking Up

Mon. May 21st 2001

Trippy life
no strife
no more waiting
anticipating times better
Making strides
backsliding blocked by the undeniable

Cracks in the foundation of Empire
inspire knowing glances between players in the scene

Greedy feeling needy now that speedy growth is stalling out
Funny hungry money grubbers blankly blinking start to pout

Artificial fiscal spell: on the count of three we will awake

What claim did you stake?

What is more important than the people in your life?
Will you be getting spanked as the banks are drawing blanks?
Give thanks now to the gracious land that has allowed these blocks to stand
in seeming opposition to the woman and the man
that do not separate themselves from each other
with their thoughts or with their plans
Put you hands in each others
pull you heads togeather
do not fear the stormy weather generated by the noisy clatter of metallic teeth.