Part III (or Treetops and I)

Treetops and I with our heights in common
swamps and my life with the muck on the bottom
Through tunnels in search of that proverbial light
cynics won’t find it but the rest of us might
Is It in a person, is It in a book
do the shadows become it when nobody’s looking?
Is there a sole answer to questions exponential
or will we question all answers existential?
Is there something better we’re not privy to
that maybe we’ll learn when embodiment’s through?
Is there a beingness better than our best sensation
in contradistinction to transient thrills of creation?
A lasting glee, unthought, unsaid
just a way to be to be instead
of changing moods, vicissitudes and flux
of attitudes unstable and loveless fucks
Is Love what will save us, if so in what form?
maybe salvation’s intrinsic to the wishful forlorn
With social scripts and institutions
is this what we call evolution?
Would we recognize happiness if you or I met it?
could you explain it to me, “I just don’t get it”
If we all had one wish, what would yours be?
the Vedas say we are what we need
And what we can’t do without we will see that we won’t
minds preconceive so that destinies don’t
Fate is determined, needs no calculation
its outcome fashioned by sentient orchestration
For we are our deepest driving desire
warmed in the winter by the will of the fire
What we will is set in motion through deed
imagine a garden, then water the seed
So the desire that drives us shall be fueled by our will
and wills find ways and ways are what build
the destinies shaped by the deeds that did
what we always wanted but thought was hidden
So we asked ourselves what we truly desired
and we sought the means before lungs expired
Our wells swelled with water when delusions found none
Madame Zelda wants a quarter but why settle for one
Once a wish in your head is envisioned, that’s all
the rest is love, you simply fall
Can’t stop the momentum like a stone thrown to a pond
only the stone is a gem and in the hand, a wand
Once that gem is airborne there’s no stopping its flight
like magic, all goodbyes become only goodnights
So much is hidden from our view and grasp
The light in our hearts is the only one that lasts
…As this bedside lamp loses its job
I hear a cadence as the firmament sobs
As these lids descend to see you better inside
I, too, hear love’s patter that keeps me alive

And it’s not with two eyes that I perceive a glisten
my third sees a luster; to this in-sight I listen
It says follow inward through labyrinths to bliss
will you quest with me as I blow you this kiss?
Like Mr. Whitman, “I contain multitudes”
my identity today is just one to exude
I’d like to learn what turns you on most
I don’t want mild interest, I want you engrossed
I am certain there is one of me you will fancy a lot
my heart’s a vast target, please give me a shot
Maybe one’s gamut of needs can’t fit a single profile
but a mouth only needs one cause to smile
So let me evoke them, they’re what I have to give
I’d love to be your rapture derivative
I can bliss out your body as I enter through soul
Moksha, transcendence, through skin’s catalytic role
Allow me one frame on this filmstrip of time
to author, direct, cast us in this vignette Sublime
I promise deep pleasure, my trysts are only made of
the swirlings of chi from two wellsprings of love
I don’t believe individuals must be in it
Love, that is, to reap thrills within it
That “one and only” thing has proved elusive to me
for I’ve felt it three times, now historically
Now what I seek is the harmonization
of mind, body, soul for holistic elation
My mind has a puncture wound, by an arrow I’m struck
I like how you think, Cupid aimed and it stuck
Intellectually, yes, that base has been covered
now two more factors turn likers to lovers
Body, no contest, 10-plus plus
but one more facet distinguishes true yearning from lust
And this is the cagey, most mysterious part
When lip blossoms entwine, they must stem from the heart
So I ask you, ____, will you “go get your knife
and kiss me” from that place to which we’ll return after life…?

*Weebles Wobble but they Don’t Fall Down*

1/21/10
*Weebles Wobble But They Don’t Fall Down*
subtitle: “Courage is When You’re Scared to Death – But Saddle Up Anyway”  (John Wayne)

I’m not going to keep splashing in puddles when ocean is a flick of my psyche away
I will be wise and choose to use memories, not let memories use me, like the Vedas say
If I miss a bead on my mala or miss a beat on my drum
I will not say “look how far I have to go” but will proclaim “look how far I’ve come”
Though I can’t pinpoint what’s predisposed me to fear, I won’t waste my time posthumously rooting through a landfill
What will xylophone-like fishbones and oxidized tin can tears tell me that’s more powerful than ever-fresh free will?
We have the capacity to say *stop* now to a fitful inner hellion
Emotions are wonderful backseat drivers but they shouldn’t be steering the chariot
Old perceptions are nice as heirlooms, tokens of past conditions we couldn’t help
We let others become our mental habit slavedrivers because we didn’t know we deserved to speak up for ourselves
The oppressor never gives freedom willingly, freedom must be demanded by the oppressed
Martin Luther King Jr. blazed a trail for our collective struggle but we must believe in ourselves first, to do the rest
Sometimes skeletons in my broom closet feel the size you pay to see
in that colossal dome in which your head hurts from looking up at dinosaur bones preserved in the Museum of Natural History
Inveterate insecurities feel so huge and unstoppable like a Tyrannosaurus Rex
licking his lips for a popcorn snack of trembling chickadees in their what-they-thought-was-safe nest
At times I feel so vulnerable, but not even to a predator out in the wild
It’s anxiety caused by a more daunting subjective – that I don’t know how to protect and nurture my own inner child
But it doesn’t have to be so hard to figure out, because figuring and analysis are superfluous
We each came with the compass of instinct and need and these signals will always speak the loudest
Next time I feel like a carpenter ant solicitous for the sky falling in the form of a Timberland, size eleven
I’ll remember how I can carry double my own bodyweight and at the eleventh hour, if I look inside, I’ll find the construction site of heaven
I won’t let fly-like-a-butterfly-sting-like-a-bee thoughts defeat me, though they’ve got such sly moves in the ring
So hum, so hum, so hum, so hum — we’re not separate from all we long for; we are everything
So I’ll choose the back row of the theatre – the theatre of the absurd in my mind
this way I can make out with my beloved like carefree kids, knowing we’re the feature presentation at the same time
No one gets gypped in this lifetime; we have the same potential to not just believe but know
that every living thing is equally precious and beautiful, but different blooms at their own speeds grow.

Desert of Compare

June 19, 2010

Desert of Compare

Please turn this brain off: control~alt~delete
Button of fucked up melancholy is stuck on repeat
The mighty puffed up warrior, a slumpaholic and effete
So triumphant is she at the game of self-defeat
Put a new track on cerebrospinal radio
Meningococcal critic will soon cancel the show
You’re so addicted to the audience, but can’t you see they’ve all gone home
O wait a minute, they were never there; delusions of grand- alone
Why do you need to drill so close to the nerve?
Why do you have to beseech for so much more when you’re here to Serve
Be thankful for your largess, if you had any more you’d be perfect
And God’s the only with dibs on that
;what bleeds you most inside is mandatory for your learning
What you resist persists, get it through your fucking thick skull
Don’t try to make it sound all sweet and fancy when you couldn’t be feeling any more dull
Just write a poem like this, it’s OK to fuck the world and sulk
And there’s a pusillanimous twerpy Bruce Banner inside every incredible Hulk
So admit to the world you’re jealous of everything more than you are
And you feel like a dwarfy nightlight when you cock your head to the stars
But you know, you little pisser, they’re just big dead exploded sparks
And of the fire that they’re made, everything is a part
What looks all big and grand – is exactly that, a “look”
And didn’t you learn in Vedic 101 that our senses are just dazzly crooks?
Eyes might be the biggest … because they sell us — sink, line and hook
To every soul parched in the desert of compare, a mirage proves each brook
Ice creams cones melt if you doubt and dawdle in undue shyness
Throw on your chaps and spurs and saddle up a dragonfly
Woodpecker live in concert invites you to spread out under the pines
Limit should be a four-letter word; now wink up to the sky!
(Oh and)
“I lament” is just “I will”‘s alibi.

Dancing Tree (chemical vale/bene/diction)

*Dancing Tree*

You know it’s OK to be afraid of a way that stayed for a while
and it made you smile
It’s all right
It only scared you because it dared you to be aware of a flair
for a childlike ability to see beyond a smile
A versatility of mind
A way to unwind
But you know, it’s all right
We’re beguiling the time as a means to find the sensitivity
You could say it’s Divine, this proclivity
to embrace a fleeting dream
that only seems like it means something now
but it won’t allow you to come alone
or come clean
But you will gleam
Stick w the mystical dream and don’t be mean to the rest of the team
You might get a hit then think that’s what you are
But you ain’t above the shit
You only leave it behind
So try to unwind without scrambling your mind
It only takes time to find something new but truer than before
We all fight the same war and abhor what we don’t adore
What’s the fighting for?
It’s all right to unite
One color under night
Universal flight without goodbye
just goodnight
Close your eyes and the night is all you are

Rhythmic frequency
See that dancing tree
I am you and you are me.