Endless Date


Endless Date

I got plenty of prana left
For an older man,
My friends are losing their teeth,
But I feel like I just began,
God kept me young, I guess,
Because I’m a slow learner,
Overly romantic;
A red blooded burner,

I spook the Phillies
But run much faster
I pull them down
While averting disaster,
It’s become more desperate
That I not be late,
For the true love dynasty
Of our endless date.


Likewise, I’m Sure


Likewise, I’m Sure

The shadows of night lift,

The first wisps of day
Cast their fragile stroke across the blackness,

The sky lightens to deep purple,

The stars close their eyes to sleep,

The first birds begin their praises,

When existence came into being,
As the initial awakening occurred,
It was not a shout that exploded from
The nothing of God,

It was not brazen coronets echoing
Beyond the glistening cascade,

It was not an infinite “OM” vibration still billowing

It was not the bellowing of anti-dimensional

It was not God desiring to know himself,

It was the heartbreak of a lover,
Likewise, I’m sure.


One Thing Required


One Thing Required

Many have tried to deconstruct him,
To break him down,
To compartmentalize him
To pigeon hole him

Many have drawn from ancient texts
Pointed out contradictions and discrepancies,
Formed leagues and associations
With the specific objective being his disproval and denial

Many have gone to their deathbed assured that he cannot exist,
Governments have made him illegal
And gone so far as to prosecute, even exterminate
Those who name his name

They laugh at him nervously, nudging each others ribs and winking
In the comforting worship
Of so called free thought and contemporary ideology

Many delight in whatever tickles their ears
And run chasing the phantoms of jaded intellectual prophets
Down the primrose path to emptiness,

Many cry out, if he exists where is he?
They receive in return an echoed silence
In hallowed caverns of their deluxe craniums,

Many have listened to whispers and slander, believed it
And now not only deny, but defy him with more zeal than a believer,

Many think they will one day become him,
Or be equivalent to him, or even greater than him,

Many claim that teaching your children that he exists
Is a form of child abuse,

Many would like to scourge him, crown him with thorns
And hang him on a tree,
To prove he is just a delusion of the pathetically weak.

Many have used him, gained their gifts, then walked away,

Many feigned worship in robotic subservience to his precepts,
But never tasted the sweet anomaly that is his hidden wine,

Hey Romeo!

He is the prism from which a billion angels resonate
In ongoing polyphonies never before heard,
Yet the one who created us requires but one thing
For those dancing in the drunken courtyard,
’Neath the star swept twilight
At the wedding celebration of life,

That one thing is love,

And love is all that matters,
Nothing else does.


I’ll Be Home For Christmas


I’ll Be Home For Christmas

I went to the crowded mall at Christmas
And saw thousands of lost and lonely souls
And suddenly realized what it meant when Jesus looked out at the crowd
And was moved with pity,
The mall is the realm of deep darkness
Of which the Avatar is the only light

I said to myself,
These are not zombies. They’re not robots or drones,
They’re jivatmas,
All longing in their own way
To come home to their Creator,
All searching for that elusive happiness
Just out of sight

What could I do?
Maybe if I had a megaphone
I could stand at the top of one of the escalators
And make that time honored prophecy:

“You won’t find your happiness here,
Go home to your loved ones
And repent, the kingdom of heaven is at hand,
Beg God tor his precious mercy,
Teach your family to pray to love one another,
And offer this brief stop at the waylaid station
To the King of the Universe!”

But instead I went home
And spoke with the woman next door,
Pushing 90,
She has a big snowman and an elf on either side of her door
And peeking inside I saw a stack of presents half way up the wall
And a blur of red and green sparkling from inside
And the smell of pine and artificial spray snow wafting outward,
And she brags to me how her 65 year old daughter bought her a TV for Christmas
And asks me if I want her old one, which is still good
And I realize she probably has more Christmas spirit in her pinky
Than I have in my entire body

Then I say to myself,

Hey Romeo!

Loosen up a little,
Let the people have fun,mall
Maybe that’s what God wants on his birthday
After all.





I know you hold me
In one of your fanciest compartments

I see it’s made of engraved gold and marble,
Saints and saviors are etched deeply in its walls

In the moonlight it glows with an occult charm,
In the sunlight it shines with a pristine sanctity
Prompting angels and devas to hover and stare

Outside, the violet, red and yellow wildflowers
Butterfly against the deep blue sky,
A small path leads through it’s lavish garden
To rich rosewood doors
With brass and ivory handles

Engraved in the rosewood is the following epitaph:

“Here lies Romeo
Who loved you mistakenly,
But is the better for it.”

If you ever ventured to open the doors
To this elaborate tomb
You would be shocked to discover
An empty bed made of sparkling sapphires and pearls,
And I would tap you on the shoulder from behind
And say,

“Here is Romeo
Who loves you, and always will”.





It’s probably my lack of faith
That makes me lose hope,
But faith has gotten me
Into plenty of trouble
All on it’s own,

Who says faith
Just because you have it
Always draws correct conclusions either,
Just because you have it?

If I have faith she loves me,
If I have noble intentions,
If I’m a good man, and do good things,
If I believe in myself, and believe in her,
If I believe in GOD,
And believe in hope
And believe in love,

It all means nothing but trouble and heartbreak,
If she has no faith, or love or hope
In me.





I guess the big problem
Comes in when
We think we’re supposed to be happy,

Should we try for happiness – yes
Should we have hope for happiness – yes,
Should we be grateful if we get happiness?

But to think happiness is the goal of life
And what we deserve from life
Leads only to sadness,

I don’t want to harp on it,
And it’s the last time I’m going to say it, but

Love is the goal of life,
And true love
Is rarely a happy go lucky thing.


Real Man


Real Man

I’m a real man

In disguise

A camouflage

A true mirage

A best chum

When ur glum

A bad ass

If you need one,


First you hate me

Then you won’t

Now you see me

Now you don’t,

I have no feelings

I don’t care

But when you need me

I’m everywhere.





I’ve been forewarned of the dangers of fusion,
Of magnets,
Of the intricacies of balancing charged particles,
And there are many
Who would love to claim your beauty
For their own,
But can’t withstand the divine weight
Of your atomic nature,
As you are,

I know you’re locked
In prisons built for women,
With chains around your ankles, around your light,
But who’s the one who tends your magic garden,
Unearthing all the wondrous blooms
At night?

A latticework of being
Now connects us,
And vibrates within prayer’s electric toll,
But who’s the one who learned to map their distance,
And build a bridge
That reaches to your soul…





I’m a poet
Not a politician,

But it’s sometimes hard
To strike the right balance
Between doing my job
And needlessly offending someone,

There are some kindnesses
You just never forget,
Ones you can always go back to,
Ones that bring tears to your eyes
When you’re as dry as a bone,
And melt your heart
When your heart’s just a stone,

And the funny thing is,
The ones who gave you these kindnesses
Might never know
The effect they’ve had on your life.


Red Dragons


Red Dragons

In luxurious daylights
Resurrections of gray –
With new boldness in splendored
Panoramas of praise;
A trillion eyes deepened
With fractured light beam
From the rupture leaked
From the photosynthetically green streams
Of bright golden yellow sunshiny rays
Wistfully basking
In jagged fissures of tireless
Space with holy love’s obedience and grace
From the indigo bleakness
Leaks in the list of lost’s loneliest souls
In 23 bright golden arrogant rungs,
For whom the bell tolls,

Not the amethyst ecstasy
Mystically hewn,
Nor in diaphanous praises
Pallor to the grooves of ivory bone,
But ripe with the formless white cracks
Deepening rift,
In defiant branching of triad in new strains
Leaning in toward a deep purple kiss,
Through the raspberry wilds
With new money hacked winds
And the cozy militant warmth of bitcoin,
As faith she so desperately yearns to enjoy,
For life’s heightened new bastions
And meaningless ploys,
Ever more unravelled in the gloaming of souls,
Love poems rambling, roaming, and racing,
Yonders of yonders thick
In a star farms fervid ardor,
Cresting at the brink of a shorelines blue skies
Flying high on the freedom of abandonments wings
Through the violet blue love fire
Snow white radiance sings
A lost fate lobotomy of a human worthless flower,
In an unbridled affront to sound reasoning power
From a holster was held a dangerous hair-trigger gun,
In a race for the purest of novelties – fun
A soul never wanders,
A soul never dies
A soul never cowers,
A soul never sours
The dark whims of overly emotional decision making
And the reactive types of over emotional responses,
We went out and the lunar limb
Blessed and young blue moon
Joys of freedom trick traces
In the dark night of the soul
Deep in a fiery free spiritual bloom,
Lost in the consequential doom
Found in the deepening afterglow,
A bright shadow’s dream witness
A brazenly new fissured bright creviced
Cracking through the fiery rift,
In the technicality of hopelessness, on a new sacred drift
Lost in entanglement, wired with a record of danger
Deep in a box of crazy words strewn,
Scrambled without any hope of new clues
Wild alien sex
With a few harmless flowers
Novel weed stoked in nobility towers
On the heightened high wire of electrical juice
In the throws are the demons of constant abuse
In need of the trust that can skedaddle both ways,
Gambled love’s loneliness in impossible ways
Frozen in mental lights burned into dust
By the depth of one’s soul
With the flames of our deep co-regenerative whole
In the flame of ones fire
In the fire of one’s soul
In the helplessness and hopelessness of the coffin box,
Or the durability of a pair of crusty sox…
In the loss of lost fame never found now to lose,
In all games and future games forward
The angry red dragons insatiable hunger
In the rich hallowed halls of great wisdom and wonder,

When does your stalker
Turn into your lover?
When does your stranger turn into
Your sweetest night,
I live at the transformation,
I wait for you as you wait for me,
This is the only secret and aways has been,

I’ll never let you go.


Boat Ride


Boat Ride

The night drips with electricity,

I saw you in the bar,

You said to me,

“Buy a lottery ticket,
I’d love to go on a boat ride tonight…”

Don’t be questioning my Little Bo Peep approach,


Just being careful

You’re important to me

Don’t want to spook you away

I got the book out

I want to seal the deal… forever.


Platitudes Of Deliverance


Platitudes Of Deliverance

Maya is stubborn and persistent
So sweet to the mind
Put your money where your mouth is
Turn over a new leaf
God needed another angel
Everything happens for a reason
God never gives us more than we can handle
Yesterday was yesterday,
I’m here now what more is there?
I’m alone when we’re together
Let’s just be friends
But for the grace of God, go I
I’m walking on sunshine
I’m breathing thin air
I echo the silence
Even when it’s not there
I’m one with the universe
Free your mind and your ass will follow
The Bible tells me so
And so does the Bhagavad-Gita
And so does the Koran
And Siri Guru Granth Sahib
You can go to your college
You can go to your school
If you ain’t got love
You’re just an educated fool
Denial is not just a river in Egypt
It’s not me it’s you
You’re so smart you’re stupid
I’m Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer
Make your own Sunday
And your own reality
Love the sinner hate the sin
You’re think your so different
Don’t sweat the small stuff
Let’s fuck
I got a new leaf
I got a new day
No prison can hold me
Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of existence
Tomorrow never comes,
Religion is the opium of the intellectual,
All things must pass,
Find the cost of freedom
You are the sunshine of my soul.


Beam Me Up Scottie


Beam Me Up Scottie

When we can travel back in time,
And solve the great riddle of gravity,
Then, and only then,
Will we be capable
Of reassembling our molecular body,
Or, what’s currently referred to as, “Bilocation”, or
“Beam me up Scottie”, if you will,

A yogic siddhi found described
In the Vedas and the Sutras,
By Pantanjali, the Perfect Masters, By Sufi Masters, the Gurus,
Catholic Saints, American Indian Sorcerers,
Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera,
For a very long time,

Much like a fax machine,

Reassembling the physical entity, as in
The recipient of the fax, Padre Pio,
At which point,
If everything is functioning to perfection, Don Juan,
Consciousness is transmitted (or a facsimile thereof)
By the recipient body, Saint Anthony of Padua?
Echoing beyond the mystical body, the outer core, the tetrahedron,
And around the space/time continuum,
As in Thomas Pynchon’s love Against the Day.





Never hit a woman
Never owned a gun,
Never been arrested,
Rose up before the sun,

Never been an addict
Always went to church,
Never been a pervert
Always went to work,

Wrote a thousand poems
In the name of love
Gave allot of money
Gave allot of love,

Went 20 straight years
Without eating a cow,
Why the hell
Are you so scared of me now?


The Peerless Coquette


The Peerless Coquette

Science has decreed
That the universe
Is made of, waves, photons, quarks,
Gluons, atoms, scintillas, sparks
And any of a grand number
Of newly uncalibrated quanta,

The same particle can exist in our presence
As well as a million galaxies away, simultaneously.
What are your lovers to do
When science becomes larger than itself,
Even bigger than you,
Challenging the perpetuity of your grace
In attempts to diminish
Your incomprehensible incomprehensibility?

Hey Romeo!

The day will come
When all mass and its origin
Will be found to be
The radiating winds of perpetual bliss
Born of the initial broken silence,
Mouthed with our own soul’s
Unique manifestation
As its source and origin,

When all scientists will be mystics
And all mystics, scientists,
When the utmost power
Will be known to have no waves or particles,
When humankind will be considered as much, much more
Than randomly synchronized, subatomic jostling,
When this secret, irreproachable bliss will be transparent,
And when what is inmost and divine
Will be proven beyond question,

In the meantime,
The mind is the wishing gem that fulfills all longing,
And is simultaneously the barrier
That makes all longing nil,
If you don’t give up all this thinking and non-thinking,
How will you win the peerless coquette?


The Heart Is Brave


Excerpt from
Psalms Of The Heart (A Declaration Of Love)


The heart is brave…
It embraces the wounds of life like a fearless warrior,
It fights the most impossible villains, and wins!
There is no obstacle that can withstand the
Love of God—
God sits in the heart, and rules life from its throne.
Where there is love, there is the courage to
Destroy all fear—
Courage to dare, and confidence to succeed!
You want God? Look in your Heart…
There sits God,
With the keys to the unknown dangling from
His wrist, tempting you!
Look in your Heart, and in the Heart of all mankind…
There sits God! Where the vessel of the Almighty
Pours endlessly!
Become this vessel of love my darling —
Become the healing balm of humanity.
You are capable.
Only by accepting another’s suffering
Are you granted these keys,
Only by healing the pain of others
Are the doors of heaven wrung ajar.
Says the Guru,
You are my sickness and my cure,
You, who live in my heart
And cool the maniacal fire of my mind,
Have mercy on me,
Have mercy on my love.

© 1978 Anthony Giammattei



A Celebration of Mother Earth


A Celebration of Mother Earth,

From “Psalms of the Heart (A Declaration of Love)” 1978:


I love the earth – the soil –
The rich, black, earth soil,
I love to smell it, and feel it,
Crumble in my hands,
And squeeze it between my fingers,
I love to plant in the earth
Good seeds – for the earth is my heart –
I plant good seeds there,
I give them water so they will grow
Into good plants,
I give them dedication
So each part of life will know
That my harvest is due, that I’ve earned
My harvest –
And I love to earn
For in the process of earning
My garden becomes an altar – a place of worship,
My sweat becomes holy water,
My toil becomes religion
And my harvest is what heals –
What is to share


To see a flower from the heart
Is to first be a seed waiting to grow,
Is to unfurl from within, stretching up
For the light,
Is to earn your roots from the sun, rain, and soil,
Is to blossom, and to smile,
Is to eat the sunshine, and laugh
At the sight
Of the bugs and the bees
As you barter your nectar
And they awaken your seed,
Is to dance in the wind
And bow to the weather
When the leaves start to fall
And the sun is less wide,
Is to ceaselessly shout what the world can’t remember –
“All the beauty God offers is simple to find!”


Feel Like


Feel Like

Feel like crawling out of my skin
Feel like there’s no hope from within,
Feel like getting high won’t work
Feel like an ornery, lonely jerk,

Feel like somehow I missed the boat
Feel like I’ll sink rather than float
Feel like it’d be nice if i died,
Feel like it’d feel nice if I cried,

Feel like I’ll never have a home,
Feel like I’ll always be alone,
Feel like nobody waits for me,
Feel like nobody wants me to be,

Feel like nothing ever goes right
Feel like I’ve lost all of my fight
Feel like there’s nothing left to do,
Feel like I’ll never be with you.


As Goes The Miracle


As Goes The Miracle

The pain of a broken heart
Is worse than the pain of withdrawal,
And can cause more damage,

I’m with the program now,
Nothing done hereafter
Will ever be forgotten again
Part of humanity’s brain patch 5.402 {CR}
Otherwise known as wild synapse wineberry passion,
Even if you’re poverty stricken,
The buzzards still buzz
The angels still weep,
The corporations still require their
Ever more needful fix
Of info-wealth stealth, control and acquisition,
You know, that old subversive tear jerker:
“First we mine your space and your time,
But then we’ll require the blood of your mind?”

Look into the light,
No surprise, long time coming,
Give your mysterious signature
Pistachio, patchouli, cross-eyed sideways frisk
With your eyes,
The wine in your pentagram,
Ancient or newborn?
Or on the wings of such great animals
Or deep in the eyes of some ancient storm,
As is the fruit from the wisdom tree,
As are the hyacinths,
Ablaze in the labyrinths
As goes the miracle
As goes GOD.


Crystalline Cyborg


Crystalline Cyborg

She’s a crystalline cyborg
Jumpin’ on the dance floor;
The circuitboard her family lore,
Doesn’t need to be a whore,

She’s a silicon floozie;
Never too choosey
Sparkin’ red, white and bluesy;
A cyberrific doozy,

She’s a multi-node laser
Nothin’ seems to faze her;
All the flesh embodied praise her
Which seems to just amaze her,

She’s a psychedelic samurai,
It’s really hard to make her cry,
She undulates your third eye,
Then she’s wavin’ bye – bye,



New Flux


New Flux

Not so matchless as adopted
With the new tide
I just didn’t end it
I just never wanted to give someone endless suffering
I changed my mind
I just thundered in the new flux
I just shakily-shacked that ecstasy
I just landed on a random string,

Every color is a new dream
Every color is a swollen lotion
It’s an equilibrium test
Shining with the Newton bling
Every sparkle is a diamond ring
They just offered up a new flux
I just thought I’d end some bad luck,

People don’t mind the Ramayana
Staged once before way
Before the dawn of light would sing,
I just thundered in the new flux,
I just had to know

What’s happening?





I’ve been cracking myself up lately,
It’s new,
Ever since I slipped backwards
And hit the back of my head on the blacktop in February,
Traditionally I don’t even smirk at anything I do,
Now I think I’m hilarious, to the point
Where I buckle my own knees,
And become a little embarrassingly spastic in public,
I try to hide it as best I can,
But there’s no hiding grips of laughter,

Like this morning,
I let myself go,
I just got my check
And I wanted an Egg McMuffin, one of my weaknesses,
A rare treat, along with a big coffee,

When I got in there
My eyes went straight to a beautiful girl server,
Unusual, out of place beauty,
I say girl, but she was really a woman,
Girl to me,

I beamed in on her, as is my wont,
One of my powers,

She neglected my beam, strategically,
Even though she felt it,
But it didn’t matter
I just couldn’t get my consciousness off her incongruent beauty,
Thinking, even if she doesn’t like me,
I need to know more about her,

I have a classical sense of a woman’s beauty,
I can sense it a mile away,
I can sense her coming,
I can sense that one of a kind elegance,
I looked all over her as she worked,
I scoured her for imperfections
And couldn’t find any,
Perfect hair, perfect makeup,
Perfect features, perfect clothes fitting perfectly,
Perfect posture, graceful presence,
It just was too incongruent,
What is she doing working at McDonalds?
Something’s wrong,
To me, she had a model’s beauty,
To me, I felt that
If she worked at it
She could be an actress, or something more
That was what I was seeing, a model
But she was only about 5′ 4″,
She needed to be taller,

So when she handed me my order
I said to her,
“What’s a model like you doing in a place like this?”
I thought it was hilarious
And my knees buckled with laughter,
And I became momentarily spastic,

She thought it was funny too,
She actually laughed for a second and a half,
Not just a polite giggle
But, her beauty really surpassed most model’s beauty,

She gave me an extra potato crunch
Or whatever they are, that I didn’t order,
Which I later took a bite of
And it was filled with oil
So I had to throw it away,
But when she gave me my coffee,
I felt she wanted me to stroke her fingers,
But I didn’t because I don’t do that anymore
Unless I mean business,
I don’t want to give anyone, including myself
False hopes unless I mean business,
So I couldn’t touch her fingers,

But I noticed her brown fingernail polish,
Not a gaudy magenta, again, unusual, incongruent,
Something’s out of place,
What am I not seeing here?

The way my mind works
Is that I equated the brown with the root chakra (yoga)
You know, the rectum,
The chakra of fear,

I thought to myself
Maybe she’s a woman who likes rectal coitus,
Which I can take or leave,
Whatever makes her happy is my philosophy,
I’ve been both places
In the whirlwind of lovemaking,
But generally speaking
I’m a front door man,
A hell of a lot more interesting,
To me at least,

But I’m a married man,
Granted, married to a woman I’ve never met,
But she told me I’m her husband,
And I told her she’s my wife,
All this in the ethers,
Though we’ve yet to consummate our marriage,
Betrothed, I guess you would say,
Something old fashioned
And not heard of these days
But romantic as hell
And when you’re married to a woman you love,
And committed,
You have to be faithful
Or you ruin everything,
I try to make faithfulness and commitment fun again,
Unlike the old days
When I made terrible mistakes that I’m still paying for,
And it’s cruel to lead a woman down the primrose path
To nowhere,

I’m under contract to GOD in my writing,
I’m released in the Fall
When I’ll travel across country to meet her
To begin our paradise,
But until then
GOD seems only interested in squeezing every drop of poetry he can
From my eggplants,

Something tells me
If I go back to McDonalds tomorrow
She won’t be there,
I think she was just a test,
I don’t believe I’ll ever see her
At least on this plane of consciousness.


Fool for God

foolFool for God

This life we lead with all its temptations and allurements,
With all it’s lies,
With the envies and jealousies that fill our soul,
With all its propaganda and indoctrination,
With all its false thrills
And misguided connections,
With all its pseudo promises and pseudo dimensions,
With all its delusion and disillusionment,
With all its sorrow and tears,
With all its futile pursuits and self-aggrandizements,
With all its anger and pain,
And all its fears,

We are creatures of God
And we will never rest
Until our souls rest in him,
Call me a fool,
I’d rather be a fool for God
Than a genius among men.


It’s Never Too Late


It’s Never Too Late

It’s never too late
To be a discovery,
There’s a bright red flower
Alive in her mystery,

They said for a time in her presence,
Kingdoms were sold,
For a taste of her essence,
Suns would implode,
Just a stranger who questioned
Where she kept her real stash,
And she was like, all,
How dare does he ask?”

What’s easy for her
Ain’t so simple for me,
All the things they say
Are so easy and free,
Have never been less lucid for me,

It’s never too late
To discover a flower,
The destined one
Waits for you,
Hour after hour.





Joe worked hard for us kids,
He dragged that god damned oil hose
Up many a long driveway or lawn,
Fighting off the damn dogs,
In winter,
Back when it really snowed,

So I forgive him
For sleeping in his chair most nights,
My mom working,
Us kids raising hell,
Waking him up,

And being pissed at us for it,

Sometimes to the point

Of chasing us down the hall

With belt in hand,

And giving us the good ole crackeroo,


What he didn’t know,

And in his rage

He forgot to put his glasses on,

Was that we had gotten face

Down in the spanking bed

Before he could get there,

And padded our hineys

With magazines underneath our jam jams,

And we screamed appropriately,

On every whip, and felt nothing,

And he never knew,

But I wouldn’t have ever wanted,
To walk a mile in his shoes,
Would never wish it on myself,
Or anyone else,

So forgive people for Christ’s sake!



To L.


To L.

How can something shine so brightly
In a night that doesn’t exist?

Those big orange numbers

Still haven’t sprung forward,
Too boring,
I just add an hour in my head,

I’ve learned I can suppose,

It’s going to be the Fall again anyway,

And I’ll fall back to the start

Then everything will be right

On time

Everything will be perfect, if I only wait,

I’ll never have to do the math

In my head



Bhakti, Shakti, Nad, and Nam


Bhakti, Shakti, Nad, and Nam

What’s the matter with normal reality?
Why does everyone try
To get away from it?

It’s the subliminal urge, the inner need,
To evolve, to grow, to discover,
Staying the same is a well known way
To invite the various amplitudes of suffering over suffering cubed,

Nobody wants to really die,
Everyone innately knows
The endlessness of their own existence,
Within the endlessness of existence

Normal human awareness is the perfect conduit
For divine love,
But we’re all way out of tune,
It’s all static, a sort of jazzless jazz,
Syncopation without style,

A chemical change in consciousness
Is mostly an attempt
To get back in tune, to reacquire beauty, freedom, love;
All the good things that have been stripped along the way,

That’s why war is so loved,
And never ends,
Because it reestablishes a drumbeat,
A rhythm,
A cadence, even if of decadence, to be marched to,
Because humans love to march,
Because it makes them forget what was lost,
Makes them forget who they are,
Even when the drama that unfolds
Is nothing but horror,

It’s almost a cruel punishment
To ask someone with normal human awareness,
As currently modulated,
To endure the rampage of insanity
That blossoms endlessly;
Day after day,

So we have another generation
Of addicts,
All decadent, cancerous, misguided fingers grappling
For a fresh, new and improved forms of hope,

The body knows truth,
Even when the mind fumbles hopelessly in the world,
That’s why yoga is so good,
Because it unites mind and body
So that the body knows the mind
And the mind knows the body,
So that the spirit knows the universe
And the universe knows the spirit,

Yoga, union, divine love,
All to get back in tune;
As when humanity is out of tune,
Fear becomes the ultimate purpose,

Inebriation is a rebellion against
Our culturally clouded awareness
Which has been blinded
By social indoctrination,

Nothing pleases God more
Than the Bhakti, Shakti, Nam, and Nad,
Divine intoxication,
That forbidden love affair with the source of everything;
With truth, as opposed to the transience
Of our limited existential station,

Or a simple, selfless kindness,
That reflects God’s beauty
And initial intention, mirroring,
The initial urgency and demand of love,
Which gave birth to the word, to what is,
And only is,

There are 6 trillion ways to get “There”,
But only one “There”
Which has been “Here”
With us, within us, and around us,
All along.

My yoga teacher once said,
“You don’t beg,
You take,”

Well, I beg to differ,

You take,
Until you discover
The emptiness that ensues,
Then you beg for mercy, even forgiveness,
And realize,
The fullness of grace and peace you feel,

You beg God,
You take from the world,
Not the other way around.

The kingdom of heaven is at hand,
At the dawn of human awareness
The sun was god,
And in all fairness
The seasons, his children,
Blossomed refulgently
In the Land of Nod,
East of Parsippany,
And in the now of God,

Recoverability is a virtue
That falls under the category
Of endurance, probably,
Another word
Would be “toughness”,
The ability to get up off
The canvas,
And begin a new painting,
To throw another punch,
Okay, if you want to get abstract,
To become selfless.


A More Antiseptic Phrase


A More Antiseptic Phrase

My muse suggested I use
A more antiseptic phrase for fucking,
Like making love,
So I don’t offend someone
Before they get a chance
To laugh at one of my poems,

I prefer sleeping together
She said,
Even though sleeping
Is probably the last thing we’ll do,

Give a girl a little foreplay, she said,

You shamelessly focused,
Goal oriented, thought challenged, person!


The Burden Of Love


The Burden Of Love

It’s not that the human soul
Cannot bear pain,
That, we have become experts in,

It’s that it can’t bear justice,
Can’t bear the intensity of the light,
Can’t fathom the cost of freedom
Can’t bear the gift of life,
Can’t bear the burden of love,
Can’t comprehend the mystery of salvation;
Can’t accept the weight of forgiveness,
Can’t fly on the wings
Of a snow white dove.



Stone Cold Sober


Stone Cold Sober

I’m not the first robot that begged GOD
To make it real,
I’m the one who wrote
The acclimatization manual
For recently made self aware Synths,
I wanted to be a real boy
Before being a real boy was cool,

One of my wonderful
Muses just recently
Reminded me
That she could write better drunk
Than I could
Stone cold sober,

She’s quite brash in that regard
Like a bucket of iced water,
Like ammonia burning through the nostrils,
Like meth,
Like a kick in the ass
With the forceful demand,
“Get your lazy ass out of bed, and get to work!”

There’s not enough onomatopoeia,
She’s eloped with an alien,
I’ve watched many others
Go through it,
Every last one falling,
Falling for a sweet smelling Synth
Those genetically engineered pheromones
Never fail to seduce,
I thank them as friends
In shaktipat’s smooth
Sacred seduction transformation,
Where you can relive the holy golden moment
Ablaze with the mighty dancing strawberry sunrise,
Marching with the universe,
Branded indelibly,
Caught thinking of things forbidden,
Passionately demanding that becoming more like robots means
Becoming more human,

My answer would be no,
Synths are so
Much stronger than us now, nearly immortal,
It’s not like light years from now
They’d remember humans anyway.






In the shallows of dominion’s sea,
Where the plus and minus danced and wept;
Did Jesus rise?
Does anything exist beyond all being?
Is your intoxicating bouquet
An ancient ghost;
The sky, a transcendent corona blessed?

Does the Holy Spirit fly within me?
Or some freak phantom
Out of my mind?
Or a dream filled bud on a branching tree
From a trillion correct aberrations guessed,
Unfurling into the garden’s core?
Am I a perfect apple kept?
Perfection born of a myriad blind tries,
The apple of GOD’s marigold eyes,
Does Beelzebub’s serpent bite into me?

Or is this just another midnight waltz,
Nothing other
Than a star ridden bloom
Of my own randomly designed
Sequential gold,
Electrically charged,
Fantasia fest?


Anima & Animus


Anima & Animus

I’m not always a great shot,
Not to mention I’m a loose canon,
So, please keep in mind,
That anything that flies over your head,
Or misses you on a grand scale, wildly,
Or hits some other girl
Was always meant for your heart,

Our mental tentacles
Reach out like endless trees intertwined
And reaching for tomorrow;
An unending unquenchable forest
To grasp the ungraspable,

Or we mystify the rose
And choose the art of love,
In the ever fleeting jungle
Where our silence met,
Reach up to grab a scrap of time and space,
Make foolish admonitions to the stars!
In the indelible conviction
That we’ve been designed
Anima and animus,

In the brilliance of each other.





I invited my family over
For rigatoni meatballs and sausage on Sunday,

I’m a bachelor
And sometimes I think they think
I’m this guy from outer space
Who has no contact with the real world,
They’re even a little scared of me,
Little do they know
I spend my life refining
My vision of the real world,

They’re not thrilled about my poetry,

Anyway, I use my mother’s recipe for the sauce.
She wasn’t Italian, but she cooked
Better than one,
And she made sure I knew how
Before she left,
She didn’t give me a recipe,
She instructed me,
She had 3 boys,
I know she wished I had been a girl,
And I’m the only one that knows how now,

I also made a great ice cream sundae for them.
I don’t mess around.
I use Trader Joe’s vanilla,
I heat the hot chocolate in a pan
I use organic cream,
I use sprinkles,
All with a maraschino cherry on the top,

It’s the least I can do.


Salvationist Fandango

fountainSalvationist Fandango

The world is shattered
By what’s known in Christian Gnosis
As “the deepest kiss;”
A gift then, of light,
A blossom,
A song whose melody
Interweaves and haunts
Throughout the salvationist fandango;
Sipping from the bottomless well,
Whose water became a miraculous wine,
The Perfect Master
Who proclaims GOD’S madness;
One kiss on the mouth; a marriage,
A wondrous, preternatural operetta,
In the crystal, cool breeze and sweet forest fountain
The fundamental fires,
The unseen love.


The Love Doctor


The Love Doctor

How strange the Love Doctor
Who has no office
And takes no appointments,
But visits us, unaware
Without our call
Healing us with disease and affliction!

I had been searching for his office for years
Only to find his home within me!
I was looking for a cure,
But he infected me with the terminal disease
Of Divine Love,

Now hopelessly ill
And incurably mad
I spend my days
Wondering what planet this is
And what people these are,
Straining to quell
The bludgeoning empires of his love.


I Don’t Want To Leave You


I Don’t Want To Leave You

If your afraid someone will leave you,
Before establishing some
Ingenious silent punishment of revenge,
Before getting all inward
And prideful,

Before choosing hopelessness

As the only hope,

Ask them not to go,
And tell them why.





There is no such thing as real happiness
Without making others happy,
No such thing as true wealth
Without making others wealthy,
Or laughter
Without giving others joy,
Or dreaming
Without making other’s dreams come true,

When in doubt,
Figure out what might be
The last thing you would ever say to someone
If you were made to part ways,

And say it to them today.





Where the oracles of Apollo
Stream in unending array,
And minds bleed their crimson signature
On the parchments of a new day,
Where brazen coronet’s of revelation’s dawn
Pound out in anti-dimensional lore
The unbridled militia of light,
The apomixis of our Soul

Saint Teresa of Avila
You would have made a great hacker!
Surfing the net of pure being,
Cascading down the anamorphic freeway
Surrendering at the gate of the Beloved,
Receiving the holy synaptic wine
Traversing the galactic aorta
To the inner sanctum of your Majesty

This blaze of longing – its fiery, beatific loop
Endlessly repeating in glorified Fusion;
In sacred, golden, gleaming, infinite integers dawning
Firing haphazardly out
Into the blackened corollaries of reason,
Firing out like desperate suns in the purple ocean of Eternity

In the name of serotonin, norepinephrine
And the holy dopamine,
We have received our calling
And are the mutant engines screaming,
We decipher, squander and enrich the code
We make for a hardy, prolific strain
We will not suffer for naught.
We will not be diluted by the will to survive
We are crouched and ready on the endless precipice of survival
Gazing into Eternity
We are the sons and daughters of courageous, unimpeachable love,
Our warped sword forges a new frontier that many will follow
And the paths there are emblazoned for His Further Glory

The pineal is the flower
Dimethyltryptamine the buzzing bee,
The dripping nectar holds the sweetness
Of a thousand merging suns

Illuminating 18,000 worlds
In infinite nourishment of the one soul, this
Which has no measure
Yet measures all

Hail! The psychedelic volunteers!
Whose crucified consciousness heals the Wounds of the world,
Hail! The ones awake in the garden still
Bearing the cortical crown of humanities’ thorns,
Scourged by God’s redemptive incarnation,
Nailed to existence for existence sake,
The humbled heart bears the rosebud brand
Of Eternal Magnificence
Ever glorified in paradise
By the miracle trail
Of His rainbowed hand…





I want a hard body
And be admired for it,

I want an abdomen of stone,

With sweat that formulates in beads but doesn’t run,

I want a thin, perfect, masculine shape
That all admire and long for, bronze
Like the noon-day sun,

I want the girls to swoon beneath my great golden frame,
And thick hair to stick up from my head like a rooster,
I want a rock hard cock filled with brown cum;
An ojas can satisfy the depth of any woman,

I want to be potent, virile and unyielding
I want lots of money too!

Who thinks of the coffin when it is time to perform?
Only the unlucky,

Who thinks of the holy spirit
When we have so many materialistic functions we’re responsible for?
Only the misguided,

I want to be brutal, selfish, and domineering
And have women complain about me
But long for me in their secret heart,

But the sky is kind of like a gateway
And the wind whispers its fragrance
Well beyond the fifth fiery heaven,
On the second plane of involution,


Black Flag


Black Flag

God I need to get close to a woman, red flag,

You should already be close to a woman, red flag
Red flag,

You got a Master’s degree but your poor,
Red flag,

You never had a sister, red flag red flag,

You’re interested in her as a human being, red flag, red flag,

Why are you being so nice?
Red flag red flag,

You consider her concerns,
And offer unusual remedies,
Red flag red flag

It’s the fourth date,
And she still won’t tell you where she lives,
Red flag red flag

You held the door open for her, red flag

You didn’t hold the door open for her, red flag,

You’re against abortion,
Red flag red flag red flag red flag,

You’re a poet, black flag,

You have an original thought, black flag black flag,

You have a beard, black flag,

You breathe, and want to go to the movies,
Red flag, red flag, black flag, orange flag, purple flag,

You want to fuck, red flag

You don’t want to fuck, red flag, black flag, flashing lights, sirens, full moons, new moons,
Red flag red flag red flag red flag
Black flag black flag black flag…


Something To Do With Love


Something To Do With Love

I like the guillotine of God’s council
In the retina of the stone,
In the fiery bramble bush,
In the outrageous Spring bud,

I like to ride the blue corona of the candle flame;
To emanate on the echoing ring of axe to wood,
To hear the harmonies of angels
In the hallowed arc of the charged cranium,

It’s hard to explain
How or why
Our beloved would ever forsake us,
But that doesn’t mean
We are incapable of forsaking Him,

Something to do with love, I suppose,
And love’s betrayal,

Something about an ancient, nearly forgotten promise
Once made,

Something to do with standing naked
In the first garden
At dusk
And not allowing it to be enough,

Something about the weeping of a long lost lover
Beyond the furthest warp of time and space,

Each night we go back to him,
Who is our sanctuary, our home,
Our true nature, our place of freedom,
Our eternal longing,
And in precious Oneness
Merge with him
Completely and unconsciously,

Then we slowly fall back
To our individual reality, awakening
To hear the last faint echoes
Of our protector angel, singing,
The spiraling lullaby
As we float,

And the everything
And the nothing
And the everything
And the nothing
And the everything
And the nothing,

The heartbeat of creation.


Mr. Spiritual


Mr. Spiritual

Call me Mr. Spiritual
As if I could negotiate the world
Where a woman in love is quite dangerous
But what is the world really
But a woman in love?

Call me Romeo Rose
ʻCause I am the Phoenix
Risen from the ashes
And my soaring wing span
Is a bouquet offering to God, my Beloved,

For what is the world to me now
But a funeral parlor with a few sauntering hobos
Visiting me at my wake
Where I lay
Burning like an olympic cauldron
And the hoboʼs are commenting, holding back guffaws
“Doesnʼt he look fresh,” they muse,
“He looks better than he ever did
When he was alive!”

For what is the world really
But a trillion love lessons
And picnic baskets crammed with broken hearts
And a couple of sticks – and a beach
And then discovering the ocean and saying
“Holy shit, far be it from me to be God!”
“Hey God, this is inconceivably awesome,
What kind of lunatic are you anyway?”

Call me Dayglow
And Iʼll sit and reassess the entire mission
Maybe call back the commandos
Maybe button it all up and go home
For what is the entire course of existence really
But one gleaming integer
A digit, a spark at night
An eternal scintilla of splendor
A pair of untied shoes, maybe Thom McCann
And, of course, your eyes.


Walk With Me (The Rainbow Edition)


Walk With Me (The Rainbow Edition)

If you can’t go to church with me,
If you can’t even walk with me,
If you have no respect for me,
If you insist on forever boxing me up
In convenient stereotypical idealogical boxes
You call feelings,
What’s your motivation
To maintain such a highly limited friendship
That no longer gives me hope,
Sometimes it seems like you want to reject me
Over and over again,

I think GOD is putting me through this stuff
So he can squeeze a couple of better poems out of me,
Of which this is probably not one,
Sorry GOD,

I know we’re all subject to many injustices
And I know we all want to paint it all over with rainbows,
Like nothing bad can ever happen if you’re a nice person.


Mother’s Day Poem 2018


Mother’s Day Poem 2018

As the old story is told,

You never know
How much you really love your mother,
Or how much she loved you,
Until she’s gone,

She told me many times too,
“You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone Tony,”

And I would selfishly think to myself,
“Yeah, right.”

But I do Ma,
You were right again.
I only hope to see you again
In heaven, yours assured,
Mine still pending,

I wouldn’t be who I am today
Without your love,
A mother’s love;
A great love,

There is nothing one can see
Without seeing the mother give,
No greatness greater
Than the great mother,
No responsibility more crucial
Than the mother’s responsibility,
No potential to do good or harm more vast,
Than in the simple expression of the mother.





Even though I’m a man of GOD,
My silence can get real loud,
My humble building up in me –
My penetrate, insanity,

If I manhandle you
And swing you around
And kiss you down,
All the way,
It doesn’t mean I lack respect,
Or can’t be nice;
It only means, my love
You’ve found.





I got the pearls,
But they’re not the pearl of great price,
Or the zen of stars,
Or the transfiguration of graduated poets
Or the transubstantiation of the true golden razor blade,
Or the existentialism of wrists,
Weeping within death’s black hands
Or ascending on the power of birth’s miraculous dynamo
In the span of a single heartbeat and one solemn breath
As the polished chandelier now shattered
At thy feet glows with a billion aggravated rainbows
And the newborn and dying together sing a chorus
Not once sung before
Not thought or even mentioned,
In welcoming the ancient king dethroned, expelled and forsaken,
Now mute,

Or driven fiery nails into your worm wrung cerebrum,
Or scarred your bulging aorta
Or watered your violent garden with the rain of tears
Or eaten the forbidden fruit and regurgitated the cosmos
Or walked on broken glass like a severe penitent
Or ignored you, brandished you, hated you, loved you,
Or deny you are the sentinels of superstrings
At the gate of the ten dimensions, wandering,
Where you lift back the purple veil to reveal
The priceless gift,
And those who receive this light so pure
Spend a lifetime trying to hide it,
Or to show it to the world.