My Foolish Heart

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My Foolish Heart

Whenever I get into something,
I’m pretty much all in,
I’ve never been a great toe dabbler,
For show? To appear careful?
We don’t have that much time,
This is the countdown,
GOD kept me young
Because I’m a slow learner,

We have to allow ourselves
To go out on a limb,
A life worth of hugging the trunk of a tree
Won’t do,

Since we spend half our lives patching bugs,
These bugs and worms
Writhing through the bulging reddish gray cerebrum, cerebellum,
Crystal clear spinal light fluid,
Spinal cord, kundalini, Adi Shakti, crotch and vine,
With the bullwhip smack, dopamine,
Need fixing, before they overtake us?

I’ve put my Saturn finger in the dike,
I awakened the serpent of gold bearing light,
I pulled into Nazareth,
I patched the corruptions, the sins, the viruses,
The mistakes,
The worms, the trojan horses, the gremlins,
The betrayal of chalices, the permanent marks, the deep stains, the infection,
The wrinkled tats,
The supple tits,
The disease, the decay, the leprosy, the stinking rot,
And then death and the idea and then notion and then nothingness
Of death,
No perception, no spirit, no will or intent? No good?
Nothing without even the concept of nothing
Or any other nothing to conceive?

I thought GOD was slapping me,
But found out I’d been slapping him all along,
What we do to others
We are doing to ourselves,

I didn’t request as I recall, the acquisition of this curse
Or gift or whatever it is, of being a poet,
It’s got me into plenty of
Psychological trouble,
Through mistakes,
Through impulsiveness
Through emotional instability, rashness,
Through coldness, through betrayal, through mistrust,
Through errors in judgement,
Through paranoia, through selfish love,
I placed my trust in you
Too big to fail,
Too egotistical to trust,

Not all stories need morals,
Some were built in, some don’t have any,
Some don’t need any,
Some stories don’t make enough sense to have morals,
But the ones that don’t exist
If it at all ends in permanent death,
Which could be a form of happiness,
How could I be
My mother’s son
And not get emotional?

My foolish heart is in the grip of pride,
By the formational intent of the one mind,
Maya, like a witch, has swallowed my soul,
More and more, I continually yearn for more;
I am miserable with wealth,
Driven by celestial happenstance,
Only the savior of saviors
Can unbind me,

Hey Romeo!

Only one who is destined to receive the Lord’s greatest gift,
Withstands the womb of incarnation again,
But we all have the power the change our destiny.

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