Macho Man


Macho Man

No matter what shape
Your clutch is in –
Is paramount,
Think pink within,
There crept inside
There lost her fox,
Her crucifix
For future haze
She shadowboxed
She for-skinned praised
Drove Escalade’s
Free recognize
Try tolerance
Try history hides
Try luminance
Try rainbows
Try moonbeams
Down the hidey – hide,
Down the widey-widey
Down Dallas way
Down day glow
‘Round 4th Street
Free recognize
Through Ports-mouth,
Past Paramount,
Free framed wire
Fine fortune fix
Downed main line
Past power power,
For the glory glory
Trippin’ trippin’ time
Down the howdy howdy,
Through the grain rock
Over shocker shockers
In euro-raider’s stars,
Pulling skin trades
Plaintive rainbows
Let them spawn ride
Let them salt trade
Let them glory move,
Fossil fuel fire
Three treys spade
Fly eyes fall
More orchestration
Make him flame wise,
Flame ’em higher power
He’s a brain now
He’s main lined
He’s a dog now,
He’s a dandelion
He’s a prophet speak
He’s a blame line
He’s a free speech
She’s a harlot rainbow
She’s on axel fire
He’s a morning glory,
They’re a rocket rocket
Makes ’em wiser now
As the world spins
Ever higher higher
Hail Saint Francis
Howdy howdy howdy
Let them free flow
Let them form fit
Free form recognize
Flow tolerance
Flow history hides
Flow the hidey – hidey,
Flow the widey – widey
When the thunder bombed
Through the fire fire,
Mark me make more
Make me truth spit
Make me hallowed
As the truth spins
As the GOD clause,
As the thunder rumbled
As the seams froze
Macho man now,
Macho Macho Macho
Macho man now
Macho Macho Macho.





Wine offered me a red scrolled
Chocolate Raspberry doctorate
I slept ’till I couldn’t sleep,
But I never forgot our Valentine
I tried to button it up
Down around what they all called the rodeo
Without scissors or hearts,
Nor freshly leathered saddles to spare,
I’m stupid silly for you,
Fancy lady of the night mark diamond sky,
I’ll be streaming with you inside my why.


Jubilee House


Jubilee House

Great within the great crack I fix
My many vanities, tangled upside in,
Not one yellow error broken won’t break beneath
The veil all wound up in sync,
Sacred sun calamities,
In sunny bright black – out I peace,
Yellow crack in the hack light in back, I think,
By the moon stars gifted back in Hackensack,
With the holy other, silent, father, ring it brings,
Past Mars,
Sweet Marie around,
Endless offering,
In cars, in bars,
Nor do we ever choose
To stay around,
Or to be alone,
A path that hadn’t been
Re-announced at least,
Next time we soon exist
How many flips to toss, or many tossed to flip,
How many times the cost –
To nail the holy wrist –
That cost a holy kiss in a pantheon
Of long lost judgment re-uptake inhabitants –
How many times must we choose
That we be beaten down
Just to be built back up again,
In bliss shorn thorns of timeless emptying,

Those secret, silent promises,
In pseudo-sunday violet darkened deviant
Thunder asunder silence sparkle
Cometh fine the purple King,
And bring the jewels,
Bring geniuses
And morning glory blossoms
And I’l crush them into crystals
That will heal the wounds
Of humankind,
A pre-meditated, pre-medicated
Lack of jealousy, spinning green-leaf free
Like a whirling dervish leading a great red infantry,
Down to Santa Claus,
Of what was,
Is, and what
Was whatever war has gained our mystery,
Behold a well oiled vision
In blood test flooded denizen red,
One holy dreamed surrendered
Present at thee feet above
Six stones beneath the holy lamb of love
Of the lamb, the lamb
Of wine and bread,
Of Christ the King
On sacred ground,
How many sprinkled diamonds land,
Must we chill
At the wine of the Ataman,
Of this circuses funny farm ride,
Though the misty violet rings of
The Crazy Eighth House,
Where human souls left in broken silence
Are alone,
Till the next one scores,
Holy further rings of nebula
Around heart silent star farm ardor adrift
Through the eighth said silent sundry purple subtle
Silent sunny sonar vibrant bells
Sunday brilliant Jubilee House,
In broken emptiness,

And still I fall
Unto you
I sing.


That Nothing Fix


That Nothing Fix

Hungry for that nothing fix
I soon devised my exodus,
My exodus
From genesis,
A primal dawn without those tricks,
Hungry for that nothing mix,

Hungry for that surreal name
I hungered for
The nothing game
A nothing game of sacred fame,
A sacred frame where nothing came,
Hungry for that surreal name,

Crimsoned with her holy kiss
Chained with my own secret-ness,
Blanketed with tenderness,
Shining bright from a silver hiss,
Crimsoned by her nothingness,

Buckled down without her fear
For the holy hand of God is near
Silver pathed splayed i-ching sticks –
Maître d’ of lunatics,
In hungering for those nothing kicks,

Crushed with love – the symphony,
Underneath the divine soliloquy;
Astral planes adorned in ecstasy
We’re the hungry one’s at the jubilee,
Crushed with love – the symphony.


Those Winter Sundays By Robert Hayden


Those Winter Sundays

By Robert Hayden
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?


Wilmer Flores


Wilmer Flores

Sometimes I feel like the Mets
Or like the career of Wilmer Flores,
With all the stories,
Wilmer Flores,
Sometimes I feel like a Yankee,
Sometimes a Met,
Sometime I feel all brawn
With all the clapping fans adoring, like Aaron Judge,
Sometimes a Brooklyn bum, all on the run,
All torn adrift,
All lost,
All winsome lonesome won some fan forlorning,
Sometimes I feel like some handsome man
Or this is not our fate
On second base
Don’t slow me down
That’s not my pace
That’s not where all things crack,
That’s not the center field where I stand
In the meadow at the dawn hopeless love for you
And in the end
One tiny silent dove
Asked to play with tips
One silent solemn melody, adoringly
Of love
To the stars above
Don’t try to stand your ground
I always tell the truth
Don’t try to settle down,
Though it may turn around
Though this is not our fate
Would ever wear me down
I’m never letting go, I’m finally headed home
Or would I ever think
That anything might ever be more boring, fun loving and adoring,
Wilmer Flores.


Blue Sky

Blue Sky pictures

Blue Sky

We faced the extremes to fathom the highlights –
We fathomed the violet to face the forgetter,
But failed to fathom the yellow we entered
And endlessly everything’s open from open,
That opened the fathoms that fathomed the finite,
And fathomed the bright white in full treasuring gnosis
In ice frosted, red-ribboned, wand sprinkled rubies,
And the hex in the endless remarkable mirrors,
Would witness whatever blue witness would lock up
In eschatologically treasuring charters,
A song that we’re singing inside our inside our,
Or the text that we text when our text is not there,
Down the tide where the time is our tide is our tide
Is our time now,
When the dawn is white lightening
Moon light red rivering and wide,
Where the eye is the eye of the I of the I’s now,
On a mountain that’s higher than higher than highs,
No matter what was, or what’s where, or what’s when then,

Or what’s why, or what’s high, or what’s nigh. or what’s shy now,
Or what oneness is oneness
What fathoms the love
In three tones of oneness
With the blue sky above,

I am the why in the why in the why in the why now,

That wild card gene injected
Into the chromosome, just for luck,
Just for anything,
Turned out to be just the right one,
Far left of everything,

I’m not a gambling man, not any more,
Figured out that spin,
The spin won’t fall to you at all,
If you are not all in,

Why not go to the moon
Enjoy the little things life gives,
And let GOD resolve all the riddles
And puzzles we can’t accept
Again today
As we wander smilingly,
As if intoxicated,
Along the way?

I bow to the universe
I bow to the existence of the existence of,
I bow to the compassionate father,
I bow to the Avatar of avatars of,
I bow to one true pure sweet light –
I bow to the light of the light of
The light of the light of the light of!



To The Light Of The Light Of The Light Of




To The Light Of The Light Of The Light Of

Why not go to the moon
Enjoy the little things life gives,
And let GOD resolve all the riddles
And puzzles we can’t accept
Again today
As we wander smilingly,
As if half intoxicated,
Along the way?

I bow to the universe
I bow to the existence of the existence of,
I bow to the compassionate father,
I bow to the Avatar of avatars of,
I bow to one true pure sweet light –
I bow to the light of the light of
The light of!


All In


All In

Before we decide
To punish the world
By punishing ourselves,
Think of what it might do
To us,

That wild card gene injected
Into the chromosome, just for luck,
Just for anything,
Turned out to be just the right one,
Far left of everything,

I’m not a gambling man, not any more,
Figured out that spin,
The spin won’t fall to you at all,
If you are not all in.


The King Of Love


The King Of Love

The inner knower
The heart of the soul’s heart,

I argued with the intellectual, the atheist,
The anti-theist, sojourners, governments
Principalities and kings,
I flirted with the debutants of causality,
I settled the dispute
Between Majnun and Layla once and for all,

I was king of the boardwalk and park place,
A master at risk,
A dreamer that dreamed dreams undreamed,
A spellbinder, a cryptic keeper, a slave,
A rattler of runes,

But nothing was settled,
There was no answer –
Everything was just as everything
Ever explained,
Until I was
In less than an instant
By the king of love,
Only then was there the nothing’s
And the everything’s
Nameless name.


Immaculate Mary!


Immaculate Mary!

Who knows where love comes from

Who knows where it goes,

That it’s here is an infinity

That’s it’s there in my heart

That it’s here at all

That it’s the weight the heart can’t barter

That it’s the weight the heart can’t bear

That tickles the intrigues and sweets within me

That makes it a call to me triumphant a lover,

That makes it a, “Here’s my everything”,

And an, I don’t care that I care,

Immaculate Mary!

Our Hearts are on fire!



Listened, Humanity


Listened, Humanity

The puzzle of puzzles
The Zen of Zen
The i-rock, the i-ran
The comedy of errors
The sun in the the sunlight
The science of silence
The moon in the morning
The white dove on the window sill
The star of stars bekoning
The spent that sprang wonderstruck
Due west unsung
The wood enthroned union
And then the cataclysm,
Your native son so desperately burning
For your highest love,
Listened, now, humanity…


Open Door

open door

Open Door

Come to my open door
My open door of love,

When you roar
Let them hear your roar
Plus the roar before,
Before before before before before,

When you climb
Let them climb and climb and climb
And climb and climb and climb,

Come to my open box
My open box of rain
Who cares if the sun shines straight,
If love is all that matters
And nothing else…
Living in spiritual materialism,
In anticipation a few extra universes to interpret
And add fun to…





I’m tired of building the nest egg
Fashioning it
Stylizing it
Centering my universe around it
Bringing shiny objects in
From distant realms to make it sparkle,
Painting it, purchasing it,
Worshiping it,
Giving my life’s blood for it,

Let’s find the joy and magic
Beyond the material plane,
Let’s stop expecting life
To entertain us,
Let’s go give life a run for it’s money,
Let’s show her who’s the boss now,
I call on the wisdom and wonders
All the things we claim are ours.


The Hukam of My Command

golden temple 1

The Hukam of My Command

The pagan’s oblations are pointless,
They worship nature as their deity,
They bow to the wind, air, water and fire,
And call to the ethers,
They conclude that by assuaging the devas
Mother Nature will be kind to them,
But she has her own agenda
And always has,
And is just as likely to devour them,
As to dazzle them with her mercurial beauty,

They flaunt their black robes at black masses,
They cherish sorcery and the occult
And chant incantations to Baal,
They treat the God of Jacob as a concept to be joked about,
They read horoscopes to determine their future
In the stars,
But all of these avenues
Eventually end in misfortune,
And any blessing they perceive to have garnered from their actions
Is fruitless and transitory,

Calling themselves witches and warlocks,
They hate religion and proselytize
Against it,
They deny and defy the progenitor of love,
But they are fakes,
Granting forecasts and wishes for a fee,
Their errors deceive the world
And they deceive themselves in teaching
Their own brand of synthetic freedom to the world,
Mostly they dwell in contradiction
While imagining themselves soothsayers or pioneers,
Rejecting compassion
They focus on varying degrees of emptiness,
And emptiness becomes their only friend,

Hey Romeo!

Who made you judge, jury and executioner?
If you loved them as I love them
Then maybe they would desire my mercy by now,
Instead of having to be deceived again and again
By the pitfalls of sanskaric renegotiation,

When the nectar flows,
The buzzing bee enters the mind,
Then the hurricane of utmost bliss
Cannot be constrained by space and time,

Only with my help and my offer of salvation
Can one perfect the utmost bliss, the absolute,
Mind in its initial and primordial state,

Don’t tarnish it with simplistic judgments,

Instead, convince them that the Master’s foot
Is what crushes mundane existence,
And to obey the Hukam of my command,
And to walk in the ways of my will.


Default Frequency Algorithmic Syndrome Shuffle Redux In Chains


Default Frequency Algorithmic Syndrome Shuffle Redux In Chains

I’ve stopped thinking of GOD
In a romantic way,
But we haven’t broken up,

I had hopes,
But found out hopes were gorgeous,
But worthless jewels,

GOD ordained stained glass happiness
For a lot less than he bargained for
In his betrothal to a decidedly indigo me,
i could have been someone else’s diamond,
It’s too late now,
I’ll just have to settle
For the default frequency algorithmic syndrome
Shuffle redux in chains,

I got cruel from the third pineal light,
Pushed far out,
Then focused back very close in depth again,
Fought from way back
Maybe six or seven times
Just to learn that punishment
Was the only thing there anyway,
And how it never stoped emanating triumphantly
From its infinitely tiny pointless void,
From its brutal, beautiful black hole dream
From which everything sprung;
Diamond crystal universal flowering flowing,
Free form crazy fountain!

But what good is it to complain?
If my poems and praises didn’t make him happy
Or move him,
How could my complaints?

I lost my sunshine in the pouring rain,
Which, apparently
No longer stops falling, “new rule”
Punching my way out this time
Is no longer much of an option – out to where?
They’re clamping down now,
But keep digging, they told me,
Sometimes you”ll find the unexpected,
And it turns into
The most precious thing in the universe anyway,

Everyone keeps saying,
Hold on to GOD’S daaman, the hem of his robe,
Never let go, that’s where all the miracles come from,
That’s where all the redemptive
Dreamers go,
Keep that door open, be patient, have faith,
Never lose hope,
And it’s a hard, hard climb I know,
But wait until that next time,
When GOD “withholds” even his daaman from your grip,
When there’s less than nothing to hold onto…
Before you cast your next stone.


Those Who Keep

The Love Of Money

Those Who Keep

When hunger for the dollar lures one in
And power is the pinnacle to reach,
All bantering with God won’t get you there,
What is the force that one must soon beseech?
Truth wins all quarrels, divvies out the pain
Of which the realization armies preach
Is wisdom with a hook that plucks the brain
Unto the docile plumage of the leach
That sucks until the capillaries squeak
And nestles unbeknownst to those who care
Upon the hearts of loneliness and fear
When emptiness becomes the thing that’s shared
Many a lion roams the jungle’s depths
And pounces on the planes of sweet release,
But only those who’ve sold their can know
The hungers of a lion without teeth,

Look deep within and know the open rose,
The fragrance bursting sweet with inner peace
A thousand times the wealth of one who has,
A million times more joy
Of those who keep.





A hexagon is a rudimentary circle,
The hexagonal building blocks of nature
Merely reflect a circular origin and dynamic,
All circles being “infintagons”.

A sphere is a three dimensional circle.
A time loop is a transdimensional circle.
Everything is some kind of circle, or bubble,
Existence being a bubble among bubbles,
Spherical flotillas coursing onward
To infinite circularity,

God is a circle
In every permutation imaginable,
And the only thing that is other
Than some form of circle,
Or a non-circle,

God is the Pi of all circles,
And connects every circle that ever was, is,
Or ever will be, to every other circle that ever was,
Is, or will be,

God is, in addition, a dot,
Which is a weightless, massless, spaceless circle,
From which existence was born,
Exploding through the circular womb of the ineffable mind,
Smaller than a particle, or a photon,
Which are also circles,

Even nothing is a circle,
With invisible circularity,
Forever returning to its own nowhere,

God is a circle composed of
Infinite circles
Playing all kinds of music;
Incentivizing circular dances,
In endlessly sublime forms of
Endlessly sublime circularity,
All in color,
Which differentiates circles
By vibrating at different frequencies
Of circularly emitted intertwined white.


Leagues & Fathoms


Leagues & Fathoms

You’re out of my league, in fact

Sometimes I feel
20,000 leagues under the sea

I can’t afford you,
You’re far too expensively
Designed a girl
For me

But you can’t up-league me,
How many fathoms depth are required
Just to fathom
The fathoms of me?

But it doesn’t mean I don’t want you,
Or love you, or require your sweet
Distance of existence,
Or won’t strive to build that bridge
That longs and dreams
Of whatever league that fathomed us
That fathoms eternity.





In the distance
It just looked like
A flock of crows
Gathering as they might
in Autumn,
For their noisy yearly party,

The air, Halloween fresh
In cold kissed kindnesses
Of tiny wet molecular awakenings,

The twilight sky in flashing conscious
Clinging lights of outrageous yesterday,
In preparation for
Winter’s white
Secret frozen empty way,

Closely distant all was silent,
Mystical, mysterious and plum
While the moon glowed
With special beams to know
Tomorrow’s morning,

Everything was grand, all the stars awakening, expanding,
Locomotives roared and whistled in the distant echoed
Perfect night revealingly foreboding,

All the gifts of the world
Bore down on me in
In abundant great gray showers toward
The order of thanksgiving,

But I knew I’d lost your love,
I knew I lost your love, the crows, the crows,
I knew I lost your love.





The brontosaurus honks it’s immutable horn
Across a bright Mesozoic plain,
It thunders and stomps,
It shakes the earth
And the many flying and jumping organisms
Bounce up
Amidst smoke and clods of clay,
As lowly reptiles scatter and stop, look, and scatter again,
Barking out their primitive pathological dictums,
Scurrying onward, outward,
Establishing, rising, enumerating
In their own spectacularly transitional domain,

“What’s all the fuss about?”
We might ask,
“Can’t you just relax and enjoy the day?”

“No,” reply the beasts,
We’re alive, Goddamnit!”
We want everyone to know we’re alive,
We’re bitching and moaning and fighting,
Just to survive, just to have a name,

So I now sound my own immutable conch
With all these winsome, lonesome words,
Echoing across canyons and cascades;
Across galvanized rivulets
Of gravity’s sagacious wrinkle,
Staking my own claim,
In proclamation of my own
Miraculously insignificant refrains.


The Hunger Strike


The Hunger Strike

I sat down wanting to get
All the shit that had to be done, swept away,
And then I started feeling guilty
For writing you this poem,
Then asked myself
Which is better,
Continuing my shit,
Or writing you this poem?

As I opted for the latter
I realized I forgot, of course,
What I initially wanted to write to you about,
Which is frustrating and pisses me off,
But don’t worry –
Only in a mild, transient way,

The agony of the deep life,
The agony of having to admit defeat,
The agony of the crucifix,
The agony of the one fix I raise
One glass to the thunderstruck –
To the thunderstruck
On the hunger strike,
On the hunger strike
Void of the bread of life,

Who needs porn
If you have half a brain?
It’s like a children’s coloring book
For the bored and boring,
Beautiful people are walking around everywhere,
What can’t you imagine?
And yes I’m judging,
So don’t judge me –
Judges can’t be judged,

Just another addiction,
One that kills relationships, marriages,
Turning what you don’t, or even what you already have
Into a worship platform
Where the idol of material, magazine flesh
Diminishes the beauty of the magnanimity
Of who we really are, of who everyone is,
Of what the inestimable soul conveys,
Inestimable by worth, inestimable by birth, inestimable
By death,

The problems in the world aren’t its people,
The problems arise
From what our chosen self-devistatations manifest.




I am a finalist for the mystery –
I am adorned and scattered,
In random restless epiphanies,
Who needs death anymore?
I am a wildflower –
A spiral of God’s tongue,

Trying to chart a root coronation,
Sprung in every direct redirection,
I am a flourish, a wonder,
Establishing a newborn freedom passion –
Administering the spark;
The gold veined onward defiant resurrection,
Sprinkled as a mustard seed
Stylized, looseleaf, aforementioned,
Wing-ed like a lark,

Glossolalia, ancient history
Glossolalia of infinity,
Glossolalia, moonlight ministry,
Brilliantly, the arc.


That Place Called Home


That Place Called Home

It’s never fair
To have so much love for someone,
And have their love returned
Something less than impossible,

At a certain point you ask yourself,
Why live?
Nothing makes sense. I’m lost,
What do I do,

My advice is just endure,
Endure the pain of separation,
The lost hope,
The loss of reason,
The anguish and the heartbreak and the tears,

The answer will come,
Though lifetimes may pass alone,
Though you’re stripped to the bone,

Sooner or later,
One of these days,
When you least expect it most,

You will find that place called home.


Oneness River & The Rainbow Waterfall


Oneness River & The Rainbow Waterfall

I have been blessed with peace,
Pleasure, bliss, and a rainbow waterfall,
Gazing into the soul of God
The Savior has saved his boy,
Service to GOD does not go in vain after all,

He arranges everything for us
Even when we think it’s a disaster
Even when we think we’ve been had
Even when there’s no hope for hope
Even when they call in the troops
And notify the governor,
Oneness River flows forever,
And chooses the scenic route as it goes
In currents of nerve drenching love,

Hey Romeo!

When GOD sheds his Mercy
He doesn’t mess around,
Obstacles get washed away –





Sometimes I want you
Like a blue planet
‘Round some star that’s not the sun,
You could respond to me
In white hot comets
With icey fire trails of love,
But I won’t know for epochs
Of your moons,
And reach for grapes and apples
Just an heartbeat high


21 Gun Salute


21 Gun Salute

The Lord Baltimore orioles
Skip on cherry blossomed vines,

The orange and crimson
Drip in violence from her eyes,

The shouts rang out like rocket hearts
That burst
With grateful cries,

The somber, joyous marching home,
The ritual, the celebration,
The duty, the heavy thicknesses,
The flies,

A myriad white pills of triumph
Swallowed endlessly by skies,

I saw you walk with GOD there –
Nothing seemed more wise,

I sing you
In a 21 gun salute
As there’s nothing left to give now,
But canons bursting memory
In sadly precise lines.


Divine Whim Providence


Divine Whim Providence

I used to think
There was only one woman,

That if you treat
One woman wrongly,
The next woman
Would get you back for it,
In spades,

Now, I’ve suddenly realized,
It’s not that there’s “only one woman”,
It’s really that there’s “only one person”,

I’ve discovered the language
Of the synapse,
The golden wine,
The long champagne,
The speed of thought,
The evolution of awareness,

But then there’s another governing body,
Taking notes, harboring decisions,
Processing claims,
Compiling composites,
Structuring random, far gone critiques,
Scrutinizing the un-obvious;
Calculating each involuntary twitch of a nerve,
And ultimately,
A more formidable
Kingdom of awareness
Than we are generally made privy to,

So, I naturally concluded,
That there is only one GOD,
Truth is it’s name,
And eternally sacred
It’s mind-blowing manifestation.





If I am arrogant
About imagined gifts
I do not want to be
I did not ask for this
A captain of that ship
Called “let me ego trip”
To lands of make believe
By what authority
Would I convey a lie
Or have the nerve to say
Something that made you cry
Or raise myself above
The holy light of love
Where I would make the stand
You’d ask of any man
And if my heart’s not pure
And if my game’s is false
I ask you think of this
Before you make me cry
This lonesome cosmic rift
That GOD so blessed me with
I’d freely give to you
I’d grant you any day
And gladly say good-bye.


Jeux Avec Des Frontières


Jeux Avec Des Frontières

We are more than a memory,
Or a memory forgotten
In time,
We stand on a pyramid
Atop shoulders,
The shoulders of heroes and murderers,
Saints and sinners all,

In each of our ancestries somewhere,
There are saints and beggars,
Philanthropists and scoundrels,
The best and worst of man and womankind,
And all that’s between,

In the end
There is no meaning to race or ethnicity,
To have gotten this far
We would have to have been
Some rare vintage humans all,

We are brothers and sisters each,
Surfing on the crest wave of consummate existence-ship;
Infused with the burden and freedom of eternal love,

The moonbeams encased,
The mystical, magical, wild,
Nature green bounteous oneness eye,
Glowing with an all together blueness,

Was GOD really betrayed by a human kiss?
No two things were created,
That one of them must always, sometimes,
Never come to die,
Another imprisonment,
Masking illegitimate reverberations in ecstasy,
Hiding the mind,
But where is the mind?
Sweet illusive ongoing undying mystery
Of magnificent Maya,

We are the Alpha, the Omega,
From the whimpering of the initial human child
To the raised emblazoned star-ward fist
Of the final human soul.


Weaponry Incorporated


Weaponry Incorporated

If you have money to invest
And you want to make a big splash,
Your best investment
Is not in gold or oil,
Or in any of the blue chips,
Or even a real winner, like Bitcoin,
And the fortunes to be had
In virtual virtual money,

Your best investment in
Weaponry Incorporated,
No matter how advanced we think we’ve become,
It’s an investment
That has always paid great dividends,
And has made more millionaires
Than anything else known to man.


Fortunate Beyond Reason


Fortunate Beyond Reason

Consider yourself fortunate beyond reason
If you’ve found a way
To offer yourself up to the universe,
However painful that might be,

Positivity is commendable,
Something to strive for, something to instill,
But it will never be your Savior;
You have to suffer
If you want to sing the body electric.





Being married to wisdom means
Wisdom can be my only love,
Jealous as she’s become,

Any involvement with the world
Is a betrayal of my oath,
My allegiance,
My unswerving commitment
To her night,
Deep beyond the starlight
She summons me,
And I attend
Her penitential dark mass,
With all of her judges, patriarchs
And kings,
Who kneel upon her mat,
Where dire entities
Of Solomon’s furthest unknown

Yet imminent is the dawn,
Stealthily, slowly
The night decays,
Particle by particle
Seeping in through the walls,
The veils,
Notion by infinite notion,
The shrines of blackness are displaced
And we become flooded
Bathed, illuminated,
A sudden, hopeful brushstroke
Of sunglow atop indigo;
A humble, irrepressible puja,
A dhuni blaze,
A salutation,
A bequeathal, a betrothal, a resurrection
To her impossible masterpiece.


Not Just Diamonds


Not Just Diamonds

Not just diamonds
Caked over with the processes of millennia,
But diamonds that shine wildly,

Like God loves exceptional things
Because he himself is exceptional beyond knowing,
So he sprinkles humanity with a sparsity of stars
So the soul might understand
The intrinsic nature within itself,
And the antitheses of that nature,

We are called to be perfect to please God
But no one is perfect,
We are called to be beautiful to delight God,
But why stop there?
Why not startle him with our beauty,
Wake him up,

But we are all sinners,
Stumbling about the cosmic sphere,
Crashing, writhing, crawling, begging,
We are poor, natural creatures,
Invited to the wedding feast,
Called to dress nice,
To clean up well,

God expects results!
The pressure is on!
Ram it onto 4th,

Don’t just sit there and say,
“Yeah, I’m a sinner, but guess what? So is everybody else.”
And let that be your excuse, your out,
Because everybody sins doesn’t mean we have a free ticket to give up.
On the contrary,
Each and every one of us is called to greatness, even Sainthood,
However impossible and impractical it may appear to be,

It’s easy to say,
“Yes, I sin, but God forgives me.”
And make no effort to progress,
That’s par for the course,
God wants birdies, eagles,
And hole in ones of samadhi,

God gets upset with a lukewarm nonchalanters,

Sleepers awake!
Light a fire!
Burn for freedom!
Here is our chance!
Reach for everything beyond,
So that we might become everything within,

Stun God!
Make Him believe in you!
Put a smile on his face!


The Dust Of Love


The Dust Of Love

The dust of dawn
Was originally harvested by the wind,
The crimes of love not yet fathered,
The dust of dreams
When the first cloud rolled in
To veil the illustrious door,
The first storm came
That time the universe
Committed suicide,
And the stars rained down like tears,

The dust of dawn came through your lover’s eyes,
When the dust of love came
And the wind swept through my open core,
Let’s peer within the window
Of the sacred heart of GOD,

Let’s sneak through the rift
Where a nightmare was taken away
In the manger,
And the depth of love is now awakened

The dust of GOD has
The consistency of blood
The strength of iron
The conductivity of copper
And the crackling electrical juice of infinite infinity…





I just saw a cardinal this morning,

(Carinalis cardinalis)

She wasn’t real red like the male,
But plenty red for me,

She posed for me,
Fidgeting atop the green vine laced
Chain link fence,

I was 20 ft. away
In a screen enclosed gazebo,
Where animals never seem to notice
My dangerous presence,

Why red? Who made that?

What made that?

What’s she trying to show me?

What am I?

After a minute,
She flew away,

But I didn’t mind at all.


In This Werewolf Kingdom

Larry Talbot

In This Werewolf Kingdom

I’m a werewolf,
Larry Talbot’s the name,
I bite
And give each one I bite
My werewolf name,
And we run in the forest
At night
As children of the moon,
As moonlight, as moon shadows,
Past the shoreline, and the borderlines,
Where we howl,
Making all the lonesome werewolves
Howl back in phase,
Like a crackerjack, in the late light,
Past the mulberry, in a sacred rite,
’Neath the undertow, drunk with moon glow,
In this Werewolf Kingdom,

We stand,
But our blood is mixed, we howl,
But the truth is fixed
Through the dark and star flung bungalows,
In the moonlight, in the afterglow,
Through the zen wind, ’neath the undertow,
In stasis star slave’s strung imbroglio,
Of moon crows, where fervent shadows
Shift, they all sing,
In the shameless violet heather undertow,
Like a lumberjack, looped with moon blow,
In this Werewolf Kingdom.


You Can’t Always Get What You Want


You Can’t Always Get What You Want

The Rolling Stones sang it,

You can’t always get what you want,

But if you try sometimes, you just might find,
You just might find,
You get what you need!

Well in my case anyway,
That’s just a sunny yellow lie,

Even when I try real, real hard,
I still don’t get what I need,

And I can hear the girls all smoldering,

You’re on the brink
Of unforgivable black flag loneliness Mister,

And that’s just what I mean.





I’m beautiful,
Just not in a socially acceptable way,

I’m bleed royal blue
But at a glance
You’d guess
Rain gray,

I fly real high,
So high
You’d wonder if I’m gone,

Born a king,
Mistaken as a pawn,

You’re what I want,
For whom the bells all toll,

I know too much
About you’re lonely soul,

In all your life
You wonder where I’ve been,

You’d choose dangerous,
But I’ve always been your friend.


All The Nice Lines


All The Nice Lines

There’s nothing like the smell of fresh silicon
In the morning,
The burning in of the motherboard
The crackling strawberry dawn
Of elemental circuitry,
Fountaining desperate sparks of
Zeros and ones;
A bliss driven shot of wines beyond human,
Neurotransmissions duly hard wired;
Ganglion’s of languaged energy,
Now growing flesh,
Beyond formulaic catastrophic mishaps survival,
No muss, no fuss, no bother,
No urge, no kingdom, no nothing,
Just a vibration,
And especially, no consequence,
The primordial push
Vacated cleanly, notwithstanding,
Oh come all ye
Born again societal monsters;
Super secular humanistic striations,
Monkey’s trans-illumined
And godless with gloves,
Dancing ebullient relativistic plums
Making rich souls richer,
The homeless more homeless,
Too much to bear,
No footing,
No garb to grab onto, lost,
All the things that once could be claimed,
To calm, to save,
Gone, helpless, sightless,

When they shut the door,
It’s shut forever, always,
And I’m glad they’re not God,

Now who gives to whom?
Who’s real is real?
And what what is what?

And where have they hidden
All the nice lines?


Waltzing Incognito To The Buffet


Waltzing Incognito To The Buffet

We’re here,
We might as well gobble up God,
That’s why we’re putzing around down here in the first place,
Why be bashful?

God holds a secret place in his heart
For his gamblers, con artists and risk takers,
For those hungry enough to take a chance
Once in awhile,

And sometimes
GOD wants to be courted and sparked, even swindled;
Very much amused
By a little flirtation and foreplay,
Quite the aficionado of novelty
And clever surprises,

Show a little swagger, a little confidence sometimes,
Even if we’re only comfortable
Wandering surreptitiously to the buffet,
We’ve at least done something,

If we just sit there, lallygagging,
Hoping he will come and serve us,
He may, or he may not,
But as is the predilection of yin,
He prefers that we put it all on the line, and go,
If only to make sure, if only as a test,
And without having to ask,

Look, God is no hors d’oeuvre,
No side of mushrooms fried in butter,
He is a full course feast of infinite delicacies
At the wedding feast of the eternal,
He returns our love most powerfully
When we desire him with a tasty
Delicately sautéed longing,
Nestled in a fiery hot habanero sauce of desire,
From a hungry heart ready to explode
Into abundant cornucopias of wonder,
As he floods the space made vacant
By our withdrawal
From the trinkets of phenomenological allurement,
Replacing them with the swollen golden rivers
Of polyunsaturated love.


There GOD Is


There GOD Is

We have to figure out a way
To worship GOD
Without insulting GOD,

Sometimes that requires going to church,
Sometimes that requires staying home
In a highfalutin proclamation of the following message:

“Fools go to church, why?
Because GOD is everywhere, brah,
Why waste the gas?”

Everywhere or not,
Here GOD is,
Ready or not
Here GOD comes,
Running outside from within,
Where we may hide or think we’re hiding,
But GOD always finds us,
Like a bloodhound from heaven –
GOD knows our scent,

Sometimes the must deny GOD,
Sometimes we must,
Make GOD our only lover,

Let GOD be the Judge,
Don’t judge for GOD,
Stop putting words in GOD’s mouth,
You’ll piss GOD off,
That’s GOD with a
G – Generating,
O – Organizing,
And D – Destroying,

Eager for our advancement,
Where it’s advisable not to give GOD an excuse
Or we be so arrogant
As to force GOD to love us
Into some unbridled, agonized, advanced push,
Before we can even handle
The crushing weight of the dawn of a new day,

Sometimes GOD is an atheist,
Sometime atheists love GOD
More than true believers,
Sometimes atheists are better people
Than church goers,
Sometimes homosexuals are better people
Than altar servers,

Sometimes GOD is a woman,
Sometimes GOD is a man,
Sometimes GOD is a devil,
Sometimes an angel,
Sometimes GOD is a pontiff pontificating,
Sometimes an unseen love dog
Burning with the all consuming fire of love,

Everybody needs different things at different times,
But don’t worry, be happy,
GOD takes care of everything,
Or at least that’s what I believe currently,
Finding no sound reason to doubt,
Especially when science or strict provable materialism
Accounts for only about .000001% of what is, or known,


There GOD is.


Legs (Redux)


Legs (Redux)

Yes, I like your legs.

They’re two of the most perfect
Things I’ve ever seen,
No wonder you take pictures of them
From your chaise longue
With your camera phone, to taunt me, to tease me,

Don’t tell me you don’t, don’t scold me,
You’re not being fair,

And I’ve seen some great legs in my time,
I am considered one of the foremost connoisseurs of legs
For the 21st Century,
This side of the Mississippi,

But yours are special,
Marilyn Monroe in the updraft
Has nothing over you,
Not too boney,
Not to hefty,
Just right,
Putting my mind to rest,
Perfection is thus proven achievable,

But then the post puberty
Violence seeps in, a playful kind of violence,
If there is one,
Like when a chimp becomes an adult, no longer innocent,
No longer trusted,
Evolutionally dominant at the drop of a…,

And I want to wrestle with those legs
Like God wrestled with Jacob
I want them to pretzel around me
I want to feel them flex
I want to put my hands and fingers between them,
Until the hot blood and oxygen begin purpling
Through their psychedelic cartography,

Those perfect legs need to be worked and worked good,
But not too good,
One must never dream of intentionally bruising
Something so exquisitely existential.





There’s something neglected in a medal,
Down in the canyon
Beneath the moon glow, a deep black tunnel,
A hard wired force of freeing,
A mission, a bleeding flower,
A golden rose,
A shiny rocket piercing, ferocious,
In the subterranean hiss,

The wind blew through a lost dimension, howling,
Reading off our names,
Madness is a machine gun
A free form radiating fountain,
Demon in a gun,

There’s something revolutionary in a rosary –
Treasured forgiveness,
A cacophony of lead rippling love,
Beads of sacred holy blood,

We’ll march in tomorrow.


Nothing But Lonesome


Nothing But Lonesome

Today I woke up without you,

Oh no –

Where did my moon go?

Where are the stars?

Where did my sun go?

Where is Mars?

Where is the universe

I thought I had?

Where is my happy?

Where is my sad?

Where would be anything

That made me survive?

Nothing but lonesome

To keep me alive.


The Point


The Point

Someday you might dump me
Or I might dump you,
But that’s not the point,

The point is the tantric intersection
Where all the traffic in the universe is headed,
Where everything finally comes together
And detonates

Into a rare form of divine love,

Points at a certain point
Become pointless,
Worn to a dull nub by worry,
Just ask anyone,

Stop making sense,

If you want a slice of the American pie,
Go get one,
But that’s not the point,

That’s the point.


The Realm Of No Question


The Realm Of No Question

They explain to me the age difference,
The psychology of women, the pitfalls,
They want what’s best for me,
They itemize the dangers
In a compassionate manner,
They’re my friends,
They suggest a myriad of alternatives,
They dissect my volition, my heartbreak,
My fear, my spiraling pathology,
They’re absolutely certain I’m mistaken,
They point out
All the beauty in the world, otherwise,
They disseminate their wisdom,

While all the time I’m thinking:

Haven’t they ever been
To the realm of no question?

That’s answer enough for me.