“. ? .”
Lao Tsu talking shit again
Said opportunity awaits
At a particular place, seize the day
There Looking out a small high window
Four birds fly away over a rooftop
In front of barren trees
Voices chirping
The birds just left my skull
And took the brain
If I could think perhaps I
Would ascertain a
Migration to better ways
Won’t you return
Birds said nah
We don’t like the way your eyes flutter when
Our feathers roll
What is the opportunity?
absence
Lao Tsu? Uh huh.
Eight birds soar They have no deliveries
Except air ‘neath their wings
Which is only nothing when
We cease to breathe
Lao Tsu Hear me plead
This is the opportunity?
Golden Wings Nemesis?
Is that it?
Beautiful Dao Fuck you
Archive for the ‘Free Verse’ Category
Absolute
Salmon Spawn
Salmon are born in lakes high in the mountains.
They stay tiny.
For a long time.
Then one day, one of them starts to
feel the pull of a stream.
He wiggles a little bit.
He gets caught up in a crazy feeling that
he’s never experienced, but he knows.
This is the Way!
Next it’s one more, others see her go and the
next thing you know the whole school has
started out on the long trip to the Ocean.
The trip to meet their destiny.
The story goes on from there,
but it’s always the same.
stuff starts living
Then some stuff starts living
and you can feel the twister, a fire
Manic man it makes me theelL
think and feel like Living
aflaming up swirling all desires asked into the path
and then the twister turns to ash, and then the ash gets rain
and the once ocean tides around and swayls the ash into the low spots of earth
into small nomadsland travelers into daylight caves
and black holes above ground
who knows what lives in there
sometimes nothing
often less
dead unmoving masked
despair
Bullshit
Live again.
Get manic!
It’s a tornado loving ablazin’ rainin’ Blast!
…
ask
no questions asked
Had a master plan, that wasn’t shit. (oxymoron?)
Had desire, neglected.
Indulged, didn’t enjoy it.
Sought, did not find.
Finding nothing no questions asked.
Ask and recieve.
droll drum
trum trolls trump
Sharing Attention
“Sharing attention. That’s why we poets gather. Poetry is something undervalued in our culture. “perhaps not even considered for value most all the time by most the trend mind)
On this note, the old child continued ringing his chime which had only rhyme in its intrinsic reason.
Start of summer season. And we’re on bikes at tri counties bank checkin’ our stash of mula’, man.
That’s how it goes. Had a master business plan, alright speaking with insurance woman, gonna’ get on to it, move through with it, then crusin’ to the park, got to switch mula’, and then got stoned and didn’t look back.
Have not been back since have not looked again winch. You singing bird between us. “Poetry is life itself, or life itself is poetry ah whatever, or something like that.” This young wisebreaded beardsteady dude, ….lookin’ through ears peeled right back orange peel right, imagine that for a sec.
So I went to where he recites poetry on a certain night, maybe you’ve seen him?
With this in mind he puts me on the stool and I speak about how much I love
His BEARD, “When I grow up, I want a beard just like yours…”
He giggles or (CHUCKLES MORE LIKE IT) and does the mastermind professor claw through it.
See I’ve had enough of this peach fuzz scruff. I need something more. Some new meaning.
If I had a beard like that.
Veiwers would flock from TOOOOOOOwns around.
A celebrity
Just to see the walking’ beard man.
See he got so fed up with his depravity
That he decided to go all out
And grew his beard to the ground
And Lackey’s trailed behind
As crowds gathered round’
And the children bowed
And elders kissed the ground
AHHHLL HAIL A WALKING BEARD MAN
that’s like dudes with real big trucks right
so deprived of what’ thought tight
So the lackies trailed behind
flower girls with ice cream cones and boys with tin hats
just to serve with honor something so profound
A beard that drags on the ground
And not only the ground
GROUND GROUND GROUND.
When finished, kneel down
and untangle the clumps of hair from their sneaks.
That is enough, now read.
“I have this thing I do”
Veteran.
“I have this thing I do” he motions silently with his hands, two fingers, index and middle straight out clawlike,
others drawback crouched waiting, moves right hand up to forhead, third eye, pulls energy out straight forward,
[gravely voice with power and intention] “BRING IT.”
PUlls back with force his Will. Open hand to hardened Fist. A fist that is Ready. A fist that does not fear.
A voice that knows what it is doing.
Not like this
Our minds get fixed by habit. Same shit different day, you've heard it. But see the thing is to switch routines. On occasion, fecal matter will utilize dreams and Dreams will Be offspring of devoured life. For life sustains itself through death. Cycling through doubts past feelings of nothing Too often a memory offers support we have encountered similar events before But Not like this
Welcome home.
Welcome Home. Rode the tracks from where one stands, to where one will Portal Rainbows from the gold in their hearts here to the gold in their hearts where they will be Welcome home. To this dancing parade Back in this Catatonic Charade, you dream of that place But no one sees the dancing, the world cannot dream with you just yet. There is day. Our bones have become grounded to our skin We are tight knit but loosley strung When our words cross beams They react like ghostbuster streams Atomic devastation Instanteous realization and annulment of past lies and whole screams So remember when your heart is somewhere else you too can soon be there
Pushing a shopping cart through the food mart.
Pushing a shopping cart through the food mart.
What’s it like watching people shop?
Something drops, and rolls in front of our cart
. A mushroom on the floor, and SWooooop down to pick it up. Hands it back to the sunglassed earplugged
human, who looks at mother and says something about the mushroom.
‘yeah it’s a nice looking mushroom…’
What else can be said?
“Anyways it looks like you have a bodyguard here.”
Points to me.
I stand up real straight, shoulders back, hands behind my back, attention stance.
See him on another aisle he asks where the eggs are, he says he is not from around here I don’t know says I
Then he leads the way in exploration Finds eggs next to brews, “That makes sense, because they both ferment.”
“I’ve been traveling. Got my kids through college then sold the house and hit the road so they couldn’t move back in with me.”
I tell him I want to travel, he asks where and I say the national parks. He says, “I used to work for the Forestry Service back in the 70’s.”
I’m thinking, I have heard about the FS interactions with Rainbow Gatherings, outta ask him his experience.
Ah, I’ll wait, ‘Cas he starts to walk off down the brew aisle.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- See him outside the mart, preparing to embark on his motorcycle. "Are you still lost?" Says he. "Just tell mother that you are going on a short trip and don't come back for a few years." I liked that Idea, seeing as years prior attempts to leave forever ended in return. His plates say Some state far away. A lady around his age, 50-60 walks up, says "it's hot, I just drove down from Tacoma Washington." Man looks to me then to her, "Is this your mother?" Lady looks at me starts shaking head, he throws in "girlfriend?!", "No she insists, I don't know him." He looks to me, says "he doesn't seem to have too many needs..." The two of them chit a little about chat for uhh, aaabout twelve seconds. Lady bids farewell and safe travels, gets in her car and leaves. What do you mean by needs, I ask. (forget exactly what he said now.) He talks more about working for FS. I ask if he ever came across any Rainbow Family. "Yeah they are just free spirits. Just travel around." Thoughts say well there are many different types of people who join at these gatherings, silence, listening. "And even many of them don't agree with what some of the others are doing. Some nice people, just free spirits..." Hands me a card. Says state trooper on it. "Surprisingly, I wouldn't go after kids with spiky", he flashes his hand above his head's hair. "I'd pull over the kids in the bmw's, who'd try to tell me: 'wait wait you can't give me a ticket, if you just wait until monday you can call my 'Faaaaaather' at his office...--', I'd write them tickets." "My son is twenty-five and he's been traveling awhile [after graduating college]-- *Grins* I wonder who he got it from....[4 second Pause] It's never too late. Just don't carry a gun." "Just remember to notice what's around you. Know what I mean?" I look across the parking lot to the cars driving by on the road. My sight is getting hazy as it does in situations like this. The trees look alive. No says I, what does that mean? "Situational awareness........Knowing where your eggs are." My mind goes to this situation. What's going on? He puts on his silver helmet, "just go do it, it's never too late." I walk accross the parking lot to the sidewalk under the eves out from some shops. He turns the same way though his motorcycle was facing the opposite direciton. Stops at the stop sign, though it seems hardly necessary in this parking lot area. Drives by my post on the sidewalk without seeming to look again. Suppose he gave his attention to me on foot. Motorcycle he's a trooper. Departure always brings hope.
Against the hall.
Against the hall.
Her body stood out as a black shadow.
Faces the dark hourglass.
With all options open
But so indecisive
Time is the light that has come to expose her
To this World of Spectators.
And she continues to dance
What’s that word…Prance
As “Rudolph the Red-nose Reindeer”
Does in the snow. On all those cartoons she watches,
Around Christmas Time.
Too big for the shoes in which she feels comfortable
Too much to do with so little time
And
As time shines at her back
all she sees is her own shadow