A Humanitarian’s Dilemma
Is there ultimate truth
and can we excuse one evil because it is the lesser of two?
When we all feel the same
can we then say we are the same?
Human
is the only label I will except
(and yet I know not what it means)
Do not call me woman
Do not call me mam
Do not call me pretty or Christian or anything else that has been previously defined
Definitions have been part of the destruction (and brainwashing)
Definitions of irony and success and civilized
I am anything but civilized
I do not want to be successful, then
I better understand "I am what I am"
and is the extent of what should be defined
Can we free ourselves from society’s predetermination
or is the prison we are born the forever American Dream Machine
or are we what we are?
Human
(although we know not what it means)
Acceptance will make it so –
will imprison and set free
Our perspectives are the only thing worth changing
Because truth is in there somewhere
(if not everywhere)
But isn’t truth just another word and another definition?
And so…
Isn’t poem and sentence and stanza?
Isn’t rhyme and grammar and
Classiness
And
Spelling
And
I
And
Am
And
What
And
I
And
Am
Itisallcommunication
Asalongasthemessagegetsacross
Itcanallbecommunication
Areyouunderstnadingme
?
ourleadersarenotonourside
looktoyourself
andthetruththatyoucanfeelthere
theywilltrytostripyouofit
butdonotlettem
3 January 2008
Sydney is my new festering sore
the giant guilt plant seed that may take years to fully grow
the new life that represents and presents time to us
like regret
Sydney is my new motivation
the moving mural of ourselves impacting everything,
a reflection of growth and freezing time
like music, a photo
Sydney is my new path to enlightenment
her knowledge complete and pure from the cocoon
the closest to the end she will ever be
like the wise old man
Sydney is my new born niece
I have yet to see her unwrinkled skin
save for the fresh face of truth birthed in my mind
3 January 2008
I Am (Face Yourself)
I am in an unknown, refused comfort
I have a bird trapped inside of me
trapped in a skin-cell
Eyes of green, seen in flashes
wings bent and undeveloped
Who am I really?
The words form off the lips my outer-self
an expression is made of the skin,
eyes somewhat reflecting what is communicated
yet the words formed from the cry of the winged
give but a touch of justice to the chained; the forgein tongue within.
Heads Falling Apart
Heads are falling apart around here –
Heads – falling-----------apart.
A part of falling is the way down –
The way-----down-----
Down can be lower than you ever wanted to be
So, a part of falling is the way down, because on the way down things seem to show themselves clearly – like Dorothy, in the house, during the tornado and the crazy lady on the bike flies by
and then she landed on the GOD-DAMNED WITCH!
Down Down Down can be lower
than you think – and lower than you ever wanted to be.
Freezer Burn
Hard hit
hit hard
fat feel
and
feel fat
fat like water
wide like water
hard like water.
Hook on nothing
the line is broken
I sink.
Hard hit
hit hard
what to do when it’s all done?
Blow bubbles until you have to swallow.
The water has frozen over.
Ice hurts my teeth
But my heart is in it – it sunk when
the rest of me floated to the surface.
I have to wait for it to melt
and my heart to thaw.
To Lindsay
I heard she was smart,
that she had some kind of
talent.
Her eyes are what stole me –
and her less-then-frequent smile.
I wondered why she
kept that chord attached to her chin
with the heavy weight at the end
that dragged on the ground
when she walked.
It made it harder for me to look her in the
face.
I had a mind to cut the chord one
day but thought it might break her
neck – suspecting her head would fling
back like a blown-up clown that you
hated to punch as a kid because all it
would ever do was fling right back in
your face.
I was afraid she wouldn’t bounce back.
Materialism and Superficiality
Today I was going to run
out of money but before
I did
I gambled it and now
am in
debt.
But my face is still very
pretty.
On Music
I wanted the music to be even more alive than it felt,
than it made me feel.
I wanted it to save me somehow
without any work from myself,
wanted desperately for the sounds and
the words to come out of the speakers, off the stage and
into me; to create me.
Create me like like a seed – or lots of little seeds,
entering through my ears, my nose, and my mouth;
Swallowing sound, like sand.
Perhaps it is not meant
to fill my senses so completely
but that is what I desired – to be suffocated by it
so that my only choice was either
let it kill me or
let it transform me.
Universal Prayer
Bring light and let it
always be real
Allow me to feel
Reality.
Please.
Bring and I’ll bring
let us be one
Universe and all the rest.
Energy Exchange
Two lonely ideas
met and found that
the other was lonely too.
With two ideas
they were lonely no more
and so got stronger.
Can Rock Save the World?
"Can rock save the world?"
asks the magazine cover, July 2007
Musicians imaging peace
and playing music and
Hair peace Bed peace
"Thank you," to those who
did it first – stood up
to try and redeem what we all know
is naturally ours
KNOW YOUR LIFE IS YOURS
"Can rock save the world?"
Can peace save the world?
Can money save the world?
I think MONEY could do it –
yeah money!
The little pieces of paper –
yeah money!
Everybody work, work, work and slave
and get all the
MONEY
As much as you can possibly get –
come on, you could have MORE MONEY
in the bank. Pennies still count! Count
each and every one!
Give the world money and it will tell you
what to do – it’s all mapped out on T.V.
And don’t worry, for what the prescription pills don’t do,
don’t numb for you
they take care of with the brainwashing.
Money WILL save the world,
make it into the NEW WORLD ORDER
that is suburbia.
Now go fill up your SUVs
and drive your little girls to the beauty
pageant.
Because for what money can’t do – beauty does
Not true beauty – but the
glorious
plastic
beauty
of the knife and the bleach.
The bleach – whitening everything
out.
Only people with white teeth
are allowed in the new
world order, and only
those with a little dog in
a dress.
Can art save the world?
Can love, peace, truth?
Can MONEY save the world?
I think money could do it –
yeah money!
Truth
Happiness is a perspective.
Words are meaningless.
Emotions/the spirit defines life.
Every moment means everything –
each is a miracle – like each
word, color or stroke in a piece of art.
Time is meaningless.
Writing Idea
Become the ignorant,
sympathize – to bring them in,
them lay it out.
Still have holistic meaning overall
but try to sympathize more
instead of letting it irritate you –
then you are no better.
Keep challenging yourself
and checking yourself.
Not just everyone else.
Remember that for everything you know
there is an infinite amount of potential energy.
Quantum Physics (A Poem)
I am an infinite being
because my consciousness allows me to be.
You, too, reading this are infinite.
We feel it when we allow our consciousness
to perceive it.
Anything is possible.
Feel it.
It is the same sensation as
the presence of God, the wind in our spirits, music that touches our soul.
It is the same sensation as
falling in love, being enlightened of an idea for the first time, art that reaches in and squeezes tears from your heart.
It is the same sensation as
Chi, sexual energy, time ceasing to exist i.e. extreme well-being.
The structure of a religion, the institution
is unnecessary –
it is only our perceptions
that are necessary
for a change
to take place
in the deep mind.
The conscious mind must become the deep mind – always.
And then you must give
yourself over to the Universe.
And then you must remind
yourself that you know nothing.
Profess humility and love.
Breath in.................................
breath out.................................
Are you beginning to
feel your perspective change?
You are infinite because
you are one with the Universe
and everything in it.
You are the beginning
and the end of time
and everything in between.
My Life as a Bum
i want to write a book
but i dont have a job
how dare i write a book
when i dont have a job
how can i find a job
if i cant write my book
my mind will be obsessed until i
write this fucking book.
so fuck this fucking job.
i need to write this book.
A Song
Make me ugly make me stink.
Make me disgusting, rank – unrecognizable to me.
Make me ugly...
then maybe I’ll begin to see
what life is really meant to be.
Make me ugly, radical, unbelievable, extreme, out of line, un-social and weird – a ’weirdo’.
Make me unkept, unpresentable, a leper to see, broke with no money – nothing to give.
Make me ugly.
Make me all the things they don’t want us to be
so the rest of the world can see that it is
freedom that they steal from us – brainwash us from.
Because no matter how ugly, radical, unbelievable, extreme, out of line, un-social and weird i am to society,
my infinite Self tells me i am beautiful and True only because
i choose to be alive.
Every Moment is a Miracle
And where is the rest of the world?
in their purses with their dogs –
comforted by the smell of leather and lipstick?
They are in their TVs – block heads, sponge heads
If they were in their books they wouldn’t be
in their computers and clothes. Then again,
what books would they read if they were in books?
Be in nature then – and even there is a
wire and pole, bench, bottle or break in the flow
that follows when a feather connects with an arm.
Who are you besides stupid and slow?
Hurry it up and learn a little more about the way things
go ’round here.
Do the most, make the most, beat the most.
To do is to work, work, work, work and work
some more – be a garbage man they make a lot of doe –
a deer who speaks to me in the woods.
And to make is the money (and money is the root to all suburban life and rules – Follow the money trail...)
And to beat the most is to take down as many weaker bodies as you can in the process.
So where is the rest of the world?
Busy doing
instead of not-doing
or thinking
about thinking.
At least we are here (for a moment).