And The Winner Is...

A long time ago
there was a place with no name
a broad plaine sloping from the mountain to the sea
Strange creatures roamed there
huge beasts with long hair
a vegitarian skyline in motion
Not far from the ocean was a pit of tar
a large oriface
oozing the remains of a long past age
When rain occasioned
water covered the black
creating the illusion of a deep still pool
Fooled by this illusion
an unwary wooly ventured in
for a drink and a bath
and found itself fast affixed
to this trick of nature
Panicked motions caused a comotion
called out others living in this place
this place with no name
These other creatures came with tooth and claw
ready to stuff their maw with an easy meal
Out of the mountains and caves
the predators came
Spying each other
they raced to the place
where the wailing beast thrashed in the mire
A terrible silouette
framed by red sunset
sabre teeth glinting between competing beasts
fighting for a piece of the action
A few made it to the top
of this half consumed island of fur
using the tools that nature provided
the excited victors get theirs
only to stare at each other in the realization
that this meal would be their last
and the thrashing commenced anew
as the stars shone through the dying light of the day
and the pit took them in
unprdjudiced
hardly desturbed by the drama

To this day the pit remains
framed by a manicured lawn
overshadowed by a museum
erected to illustrate this story
Surrounding this is a cement moat
teeming with steel boxes
operated by hungry humans
watching and waiting for the easy meal
In between the cement arteries
are mammoth structures of glass and steel
that house vegitarian humans
drawn in by the illusion

And Then...

The Fire started, leaping from unit to unit, burning off all the dead growth,

destroying countless, purifying few.

But enough.

As it is a Natural process, a part of the Scheme of Things.

Alarms ring.

Ears activate in ways never experienced before.

Doors reinforced against just such an event remain locked,

ironic as the walls around them crumble

Symbolic now.

As structures fell, frontiers opened oceans of possibility,

striking fear in the hearts of the unaware.

The Function

Part I

Humanity, slowly, rose up on two feet... then, almost immediately, began using those two free limbs to start kracking each other over the head. We continued on in this manner til...

Now.

Now what? We've found plenty of other things to do with these two free hands: hugging, artwork, music, yoga...

But still we whack each other with techno sticks and sharp wits, nuero linguistic billyclubs...

At least we're keeping in touch.

All this competitive whacking started before we fully realized that we're all on the same boat.

(for those that were not aware: We're all on the same boat.)

The Body of Humanity

One Body

In Life

Now, within the body we have the brains, the hands, the heart, the nervy people...

Then, we have the anus.

Now, the anus has a function, true, but somehow after we rose up on two we fell back down, but not on our ass... on our crown- face first, drunk on our collective possibility... we fell to our knees, leaving the ass as the highest point on the body.

So, the ass didn't rise to the top through their own efforts as much as the ashole took its position through default.

The heads are underground, no feet to support, no arms to ballance

RISE UP YOU HEADS

Pull the heart above the ass with a crown.

Reacting to the dictates of the base? Taking time to be the solution, one spends less time waiting for it to come from somewhere else.

One can step above the frey, above the asshole and its function, beyond the priesthoods of religions that divide, over the media enchantment, through the differences, and out of the excrement spouted by an elevated ass. Here one may find a beautiful blue green ball hanging in the stars, rousing itself from history.

Part II

Overlooking the timeless in favor of the temporary?

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

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

Wake up!

I sit sit with pen and work again to break it down for you, to show the many what two few know:

It's time to go

The body of humanity has fallen to it's knees, face planted in FD&C Yellow #5.... Commercial food slime turning our veins into gutters as we hide behind the shutters, turning our backs on each other to embrace the dictates of a box

CNN NBC FOX

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

Fuckers!

Sodomizers of the human endeavor!

I'm talking to you- who uphold the structure of control by buying it from them when we can be it for ourselves, as well as the hometeam.

The dream of corporate culture is a mental vulture living off the vital energy of our family, our friends, our enemys, and everything underneath and in between.

Do I sound iritated?

Yes, I'm irritated. Does being vexed help? Articulating it does. Would like to get over it, deal with it:

Reconciliation. Accomodating agitation. Accepting profanity. Integrating Divinity's opposite. Composit. Compost it. Put it in its place and watch it break down. Then spread it around on the new starts and the old parts serving their function.

We are, at this moment, togeather more than apart, a whole dreaming in pieces: chaotic mosaic of compelling emotions coming into its own.

Lines as designs instead of boundarys, seen as a veil, a myth of separation

There are opportunities off the beaten trackoutside 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

FEAR:a doorway

for what we don't want

to enter into our lives

We can close the door on fearand trust life

Fear the situation?

Fear is the situation that needs to be addressed

Back to One

Apocolypse

Apocolypse: Prophecy? or Theory?

Prophetic theory endorsed by collective guilt?

Self filfilling prophetic theory?

_-*-_

I can run a maze for treats for only so long

before my spirit withers

or ignites

Into passionate bursts of determination

to orent myself as a quantum factor

an awakened being

an updated model of human

being human

masterfully

That's the gig for me, see

^*-(=+=)-*^

The old paradigm as become to rigid to squeeze much of it

into a future

The time has come to deviate from the historical trajectory

too tight to breathe deep

coiled tight

poised to fly

a mind yearns to break free of it's history

its self conception

I WILL NOT USE THE PAST AS A TEMPLATE FOR THE FUTURE

. . . o o o () () () O O O () () () o o o . . .

Alice stepped through the Looking Glass

Aladin pulled a Genie from the Lantern

The Lion and the Witch in the Wardrobe

A ripped Van Winkle emerging from the cave of the Little People

Mascalito comes to you through the plant

A ranting man on the street

quentessential speach

reach into the deep

from sleep

. . . : : : [ [ [ 0 ] ] ] : : : . . .

Question the Regestered

the Trade Marked

the Copywritten realities

Spend your time tripping on the corporate rhyme

and climb into bed with the dead

the streilized heads

the federalis of ignorance

The ruling class of the Realm of Thud

have little affinity for divinity

Where does your affinity lie?

What does your eye spy?

Why?

Do you see what you wish to see?

What you want to be?

Reality ain't what it used to be

not for you and me navigating this sea of hypocracy

the fever pitch of a century.

Seeking the eye of the storm

the I of my form

a mother warm and a father borne free of dichotomy

within me the two become one

I am their son

as I conceive myself to be

set free of the feudal two

the sticky glue of past incarnations

incarceration in the name of the struggle to be

real

free

Can you feel me?

Can you sense the Humanity climbing from the profanity of history:

the myopic lies of the blinded spys that pass up the wise

Living in romantic lore

waiting for armageddon to even the score

to make more less

and to give less more

But

are we not,

less or more

the archetects of what's in store?

Memory is a Whore

that sells itself to the highest emotion

Commitment

Walking into a situation to write myself out.

If I display agitated behaviours and tones when I think or talk about someone, then I am allowing my mind to become troubled by an objectified symbol of my own neglected pathos. To suffer the dark or negative self image of myself, which I see reflected in the tones and behaviours of those around me, is akin to victomizing myself at the hands of unwilling victimizers. Stilling the mind might be a more economical use of time.

I am coming to see time as the most precious resource at my disposal. When I work with time, when I spend it on efforts I value and embue with deep meaning: that is when I fell alive, when I feel I am fulfilling my potential.

With all this Apocolypse in the air, people continue to struggle for security, attempting to gird themselves against some point in time that has yet to happen: these people invest their precious time in preparations for suffering, rather than creating an alternative to suffering. How can one make peace while preparing for war? We are what we eat. What do we feed our minds on? A durge or a song? Not that there is a right and wrong,; that has been going on for too long.

The Players

The Players come to the table

the people want to play

a game of games

Minds combined into...

...who can tell?

Minds reflecting on each other

a revelatory process

a method for calibrating

the capacity for revelation

How much can you take?

How deep can one fathomn into beauty?

How much profanity can one endure gracefully?

Coming to terms

determined to actualize the self conception

to see if it holds water

Here

one finds out if their

But...

is too big

their vision too narrow

Here

this Game

a gage for one's willingness

to understand their reason for being

***

...:::""")-(^)-(""":::...

The Movie

The Quest

The thirst for more bigger better

the trip of the western mind through the lie of matter

Mad thirst for experience

Young gods stomping around the globe

in search of their world

Gathering their people into theoretic realities

hoping they will stand the test of time

herding the absent mind into the unmarked grave:

and what do you have to say about it?

How high can you lift your eyes?

When the shit his the fan are you going to be surprised?

Will you empathize with the fools

caught up in the rules dictated by the myopic schools

designed to turn giants into dwarves?

Are you keeping score?

or are you just another prisoner

of the war waged on the human spirit?

Are you too drunk to hear it?

The world is but a stage

and the Wizards work to clear it for a showdown due at dawn

A greater Sun illuminates the horizon of imagination

a greater one shatter breaks the reactive limitation

slicing through the insulation of the timid mind

The "New and Improved" information strikes the seeking mind

as a memory

frome before the time.

Hearing Voices

A compilation of humans
striving for eloquence
in the face of brutality

Who can summarize the human endeavor?
Who dares to define our potential?

Going beyond format and demographic
ecclectic paradigm
Quentessential

Not assuming to know
right and wrong
a desire to show the world our song

The body of humanity
bound up in lines of thought
that tie us to a history
steeped in the myth of separation

The voice of humanity
cannot sound clearly
through astringent formats
of local dogma

A world beyond the template of our past

We are creative beings
it's time we started acting like it

Big City Diner

Big City showing
Roots Juice is flowing
Earthy flavor with a cosmic aftertaste

Talking with Khedija
Being informed by Ted
The sense of mission grows overt

End of the night
Ted takes the mic
and opens the door
plugged into the floor
he shows us more that what we know
commencement
convincement
something happens
laying of the hands
blessing of the fans

I can't attest to what was felt
or know what was understood
I can say
I saw a room moved by a person

Sex Like Cigarettes

Sex like cigarettes
Something to do inbetween

From inbetween
comes everything
All the time
Cancer grows in the needless habit
Habitual ritual spawns virtual world

Day defined by clockwork puffs
Suck and blow
Smoke and poke
and ash and ass
and cigarettes like sex

Enjoy this one
there may not be a next one
I'm quitting soon
I'm splitting soon...

...maybe one more
One more time

The Big Picture

Trusting that my evils
are a part of Nature
Willing to do the time
should my crimes cross the lines

Compassion for the vanquished
be they insects or demons
respecting the lives of those I don't like

Having no fear of being harmed
fearing not that I will hurt another
trusting in the resiliency of the human spirit
yours
and ours

I imagine that we stopped trying
to figure out a way to win the struggle
and just stopped struggling

imagine that we are no longer in opposition
to each other

imagine that we are able to coordinate
our perspectives
enough to pull the Big Picture
into focus

revealing the reality
of our interconnectedness

Myth of Separation

I want to bring it home tonight
to lay it out right
to say the thing
ringa ding ding
The Truth of the Matter
The open Flame
that ignites these not so subtle fumes

I want to swing the wreckingball
of unification
To call out this myth of separation
to show it for what it is
A construct
made from mental blocks
fired in the heat of
belief and conviction
filling up the space of time

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