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Three Sheets To The Wind

Three Sheets To The Wind

Beggar that I’ve become
Transgressor that I’d been…

Send kamikazes in
Send commandos
Send kung fu tai chi himself
I’ve had an infinite supply
Requiring infinite demand
I thought you wouldn’t mind
Dropping the atomic bombs
I wondered if you’d forgive
I wondered what the penance was

What’s the latest greatest trick?
Be joyous
Nothing up my sleeve
Stop your whimpering
Keep a stiff upper lip
Toughen it out
Until the cows come home
Three sheets to the wind
Self-absorption is a self indulgent pleasure
That’s hard to let go
Of dear lord please bless me
With that good old fashioned
Eternal joy and happiness
That is
If it be thy will…

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Akaal

Akaal

And if ever comes the day
We begin retreating from
What was once written
In granite stone
In diamond
Rock
Like blood and bone
Worn down through the ages
Of many rivers past
And parsecs dreamed
Worn down by the acceleration
Of what was once
Till
Death
Do
Us

Life is but a dream
To chance the chance
The nameless name
Meher Baba Meher Baba
Where our beloved’s silent call
Out over the star drenched hollows
Worn down
A thousand kisses deep
Into the sound of dust
Into those holy “I love you’s”
Endlessly in the firmament abound

As Guru Gobind Singh
Might add in a joyous call
We shall meet again
In victory –

AKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLL…

– Wikipedia –

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The Poem of My Tears

I offer up my pain today
In a prayer to help me
To be a good kind man
Not abusive, but loving
Not to rule, but to serve
To withstand and endure
And remain detached from
Any form of attack
With understanding
And if I ever think to cross the line
To know it’s never worth
The price that’s paid
For the damage done

Though if to rule is my service
Then to rule well
I offer up the poem of my tears
For true love is no joke
No romance of flowers
And cotton candy

Let the past become the past
Baba is mercy to the undignified
As he is justice to the proud
So with my forehead to his lotus feet

Good morning Meher Baba
Thank you for this beautiful day
May I open up my heart
So I can be with you
All the way

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The Wild Wild Past

The Wild Wild Past

For me
Finally understanding
Is a cold comfort
Sad event
Seeing myself
Portrayed as often idiotic
A bit actor
A roll player at best

You can almost hear me
If you listen
In the background
In a whisper
Telling great tales
Of lost treasure
From the wild wild past

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Romans 12:9-16

Romans 12:9-16

Brothers and sisters:

Let love be sincere
Hate what is evil
Hold on to what is good
Love one another with mutual affection
Anticipate one another in showing honor
Do not grow slack in zeal
Be fervent in spirit
Serve the Lord
Rejoice in hope
Endure in affliction
Persevere in prayer
Contribute to the needs of the holy ones
Exercise hospitality
Bless those who persecute you
Bless and do not curse them
Rejoice with those who rejoice
Weep with those who weep
Have the same regard for one another
Do not be haughty but associate with the lowly
Do not be wise in your own estimation

St. Paul

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Foolish Desires

Foolish Desires

Before I fuck something else up

I leave it all to You
Not because I’m humble
But because of my unintended ignorance
And my not so unintended ignorance

What do I know?
In our pursuit to attain
Some imagined magical happiness
Sure
But the candy can be taken away

Like an ant
Attempting to use its great understanding
Of ant mounds
To understand existence
And the complexities of sweetnesses
Spinning on a cooling molten rock
Of cotton candy
Abandoned on the sidewalk
Billions of galaxies in
Trying to decipher the universe
Trying to avoid the ruthless necessity
Of pain,
This is what I’ve deciphered:
Existence is indecipherable

Our only hope is love
That great
Ungraspable, inescapable,
Indescribably
Awesome
Thing

When I was a baby
I used to cry loud
Even from the womb
In my mother’s kingdom
Demanding what I wanted
Purely desiring what I wanted
And that was
To be

Now as an older man
I no longer demand
I barely even want or pray
I try to think of simple ways
That I might help
For opportunities from GOD
To be of aide

My foolish desire these days
Is to bring GOD’s Kingdom
Down into my apartment

And move on from there

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The Source

The Source

To cherish the individual
In someone
To honor their difference
Their sameness
Not only outwardly
But on an inward plane
Where no one’s lost
No one’s played in vain

The hallucination of oneself
Is what they see
The hallucination of oneself
As we assembles our egos
That hide our true beauty
With what we imagine ourselves to be
Protecting it, fearing it’s loss

Camping out in a sleeping bag
Disregarding the stars
That flower from the source
Of the “Nothing”
So lucky
For the source of the “Everything”
Is very very good

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Highly Realistic Apparitions

Highly Realistic Apparitions

I can’t dunk

I’ve dreamed that I could dunk
(And I don’t mean fake dunks
To give someone
The virtual reality
Sugar Tease Gate
HRA’s (Highly Realistic Apparitions)
To appease the still struggling;
Who always awoke highly disappointed
Yes, exactly ten feet

Of course Dr. J (Julius Erving) can still dunk
Aged mid 60’s
As of now (Youtube)

I try to think of it this way,
Einstein couldn’t dun
Nor Mahatma Gandhi neither
(This is where Jesus would
Normally come into my poem,
But seeing that he can walk on water
I’m not so sure he couldn’t dunk
So I’ve excluded him from the list
(No disrespect intended)

Abraham Lincoln was tall
But still couldn’t dunk
Martin Luther King couldn’t dunk
But had a heart
That could shout
From the sacred hollow
“I Believe!”

Oprah couldn’t dunk
Jimi Hendrik’s could dunk
With or without acid
But not with those bell bottom blues

Elenor Roosevelt couldn’t dunk
SpongeBob SquarePants couldn’t dunk
Unless written into his animation

Let’s face it
Only 1% of people can dunk
OK, maybe as many
As 2.4% of Americans

Don’t feel bad

But jeez… wouldn’t it be great…..?

But then again
If everybody could do it
I don’t believe I’d dream about it much
Anymore

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Inspiration

Inspiration

Meditate
Until you meditate without meditating,
Until the meditation meditates you

Special thanks to my mother
My first teacher
Through a mother’s love
She loved me
My father who inspired me
Jesus and all the saints –
Inspiration
The Catholic Church, Guru Nanak
Yogi Bhajan, the yoga saint
The Sikh Faith
And Avatar Meher Baba
From the beginningless beginning
Until the endless end
And all my family and friends

Inspiration to all…

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DAAMAN

DAAMAN

Obedience is a fountain
From which all virtues
Originally sprung
Obedient to the will of GOD
Above all else
Obedience
As was the strength of abram

How do we distinguish
Between the will of GOD
And the incessant ranting
Of our own superego?

We ask GOD for help
Especially we ask
To be bathed in GOD’s abundant mercy
And forgiveness
And wrapped in his protective mantle
Of infinite wine, of holy blood
Grasping tight to the hem His DAAMAN;
Brushing the fringe
Of His infinite cloak

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Grizzled Warrior

Grizzled Warrior

In a world
Where reputation is everything
Remove that
And you got yourself
A broken humanoid

Admitting failure does not omit facts
Staring failure in the face 24/7
And who’s to blame for that?
Now that they’re talking
Blame and fault and failure
According to the intergalactic bestseller
“The Game of Love”
Compared to the games of law
On earth
Surprised!
How can one be so dumb
Shocked!
How might one be that wise –

O Baba
You’ve made me well aware
Of my own insignificance
Sprinkled with the drama
Of making my own errors
As a career move
As an inner dimensional tutorial
As a true blessing –
Am I ready now
For your greatness?

…But I’ll take mercy,

Your grizzled warrior

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Grovelers At The Gate

Grovelers At The Gate

All gussied up for the soiree
Please help me be a good man
But not a fool
Help me help you
Open the hearts and minds
Of our blessed commanders
Of commandos

A tip of the hat
A swig of wine
Storming the shorelines of heaven
Bringing out the infantry

Of grovelers at the gate
Ner’ dismissing
Each and every
Ataman’s fate

I believe in one GOD
A GOD that gives me free reign
Within its own free reign

Our redemption is the existence
Of the now conscious source of the universe –

Our liberation is in the vast unknown
We live now and experience always

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Prostrate

Prostrate

Satiating desires doesn’t create happiness –
It just makes more desires
Desires etched in sand
In stone, in glass, in diamond
In flesh
In palm tree ash
Smoke and mirrors
Glitz and cash
Nose to the grindstone
Spewing the grist
Of super hard carbon
Nano laser razor tantric
Honed insight
Bit – light
In particle beam
Waves of the quantum time rolling in
Wearing down those charms
By the will of love alone
All levels of consciousness
Simultaneously
Through many million heroic human
Phantasmagorical lifetimes gone
All being etched
And again and again undone
Sorted out
Written in stone
Written in the sand on the shore
Written in the body and the blood
Written in the passion
Written with the power of GOD’s own hand
Until only beauty
Within structureless consciousness
Exists
Where untold ecstasies awaken

Prostrate before the source
Of all creation

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The Dharma Of Love

The Dharma Of Love

It took GOD 30 lifetimes
To find you for me
So now that I found you
Why would I try
For something new

Love is always giving
Without question or complaint
Whether numbed by a thousand
Icy misgivings
Or alive wire
Crackling fire
Snapping snake
Into the raging
Substantive river
Of desire we’re thrown
Like a city that never sleeps
In a country
Never
Fully
Awake
Don’t look at me
I’m just another taker on the take
It’s all in a book called
The drama of GOD
The dharma of love

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When Love’s Awoken & “Loved” (a Mother’s Day poem)

When Love’s Awoken

So I was in the sunshine
A little too long
But those days are gone
Took me 40 years
Of hard work to recover
But came back strong

Tried to find out what’s been spoken
Tried to heal what went wrong
And right what was the problem
Blah, blah, blah
But came back broken

Though I wasn’t fixed
I’m now hip to their tricks
Especially when they say
You know nothing of pain
And I tell them
Don’t tempt your own misfortune

When love’s awoken

Loved

Mom I don’t know
If you now hear me
From the other side

But thank you for all the gifts
You gave me
Especially the ones called “loved”
Through hard wor

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Slow

Slow

It comes on slow

At first you’re in denial
Just another all nighter
On the woodpile
It’ll all end up orange and bright

Just another transient affair
With an uneventful horizon
Where the temptation of the nothing
All aswirl in illusion
Can swallow the sky

There is nothing apart from you

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Go Giants

Go Giants

When I watched sporting events
As a younger man
It often became life or death with me
And was known to become depressed
For as much as a week
If events hadn’t gone my team’s way

Although deep down I knew
It didn’t mean diddly-squat;
Just a “not that far back” token
For our ancient war instinct
And there’s nothing wrong with that,
But the reality
Of what appeared as an actual event
Is an event perceived
To a greater or lesser degree
From a limited state of mind
Seemed to always
Blow all that away

But this lifetime has changed me
I’m the opposite
Now I watch my team often trying to mimic
The passion from before
Like an actor playing a part, still fun
But the foolishness of it all
And the grandeur of what is to come
Mostly outweighs
All those old passions from before –

The engine once a great roar
Now purrs on
With an electric Ommmmm…

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Bluebird (by Charles Bukowski)

Bluebird

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.


there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.


there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?


there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.


then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?

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Eyes Of The Soul

Eyes Of The Soul

Who am I
A mere ant
Bearing the burden of insignificance
With great pride,
Think I know the world?
I know nothing

Why am I
Who gave me this crown
Of consciousness, self-consciousness
Infinite awareness
Human child
Bold Sojourner
Crying out as an ant
Pushing the perfect grain of sand
Toward home,
Please open the eyes of my soul

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By The Hem Of His Robe

By The Hem Of His Robe

He took me by the arm
Pulled me aside
And derided me
With humiliation for pride

He gave me
A prescription
For selflessness
A compendium of precepts
But I tore it up and told Him
I’m alright on my own

With open arms He embraced me
Gave me His darshan
Sharing the chalice of His mercy
To help release me
From the pain of desire

Through the mortal coil
I now listen in
By the mainline
Through thick and thin
Holding on
By the hem of His robe

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One In A Multitude

One In A Multitude

One of the many throngs
Of sojourners who adore you
I am a lowly hobo
Short the karma for admission
Just one of a multitude
Through a hundred thousand lifetimes
Of unformatted tradition
I have hollered from this crowd
Here I am
Your truest lover
Hollering out loud
But you never even looked at me

But once I got a glance –
And ever since
There’s been no need
To ever turn my eyes away

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Hurt You

Hurt You

When one says
I don’t want to hurt you
It means
I don’t want to have to observe
Or be guilty
Or in any way held responsible
Or in any way be indebted to anyone
For having hurt you

Which means
This uncommunicative thing
Is so offending
They don’t think you could even handle
What they have in store for you
Which means
Its something so bad
We’re not allowed
To even know it

Which does not in any way console
The recipient of this statement
At all
Making whatever is that might be,
Perhaps worse
And one must now somehow soldier on
With some nonspecific apprehension hanging
Like a cloud over their head

Like some passive aggressive
Worm on a hook

Like I love you
Like a poem

Or aren’t there any words
For what the heart can’t bear
What it doesn’t even know itself
In languages formed
In the joyful painful echoes
Reverberating
Through the ancient hollows
Of our soul

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Conversion

Conversion

You can’t convert
A convinced democrat or republican –
You can only make them hate you

Let’s change the subject
Away from this ultra sensitive issue
I’m a poet, not a politician
Let’s talk about religion
For a while

Like atheism

Some atheists please GOD more
Than many of the self-proclaimed pious
And they have a right to their beliefs

It’s only when they impose
Their beliefs on others
And become militant
Like stalin did
During his reign as dictator of russia
Exterminating at least 13,000,000 christians
And where at least a hundred and six thousand priests
Were executed
In marxist, leninist russia
Where religion was a crime

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Early Human Consciousness

Early Human Consciousness

To retaliate to hurt to steal to lie to control
To inflict to deceive and to betray
To get what “I” want
And what I think makes “me” happy
In spite of anyone else

And there is nothing
Of an individual beyond death,
A stringent materialist might add

That’s why it takes 8.4 million human lifetimes
And intense pleasure
And intense suffering
And the receiving of gifts
And the paying off of debts
To be one with the absolute

That’s why our greatest human commandments
Are to love each other
As ourselves
And to love GOD with all of our heart
Soul, mind, and strength

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Big Dream

I had this big dream
And we all know
What happens most of the time
With big dreams

I keep dreaming to myself
I’ll put all my poems together
And put them in a nice big book
Old fashioned, hardcover, great binding
No dust cover needed
But engraved in gold type
With the title of the book
And my name in modest letters
At the bottom
Maybe 500 hundred of them
Signing them all
Until someone or some occasion
In posterity discovers them
And a spark catches fire
And a fire makes a blaze
And the children of tomorrow
Will drink it up these poems like
A cup of cool water
After burning from the inside
For untold days
And those 500 copies make someone
Or many someone’s
A small fortune

But in the end
Its nothing but dust
Nothing but ash
Regardless,
Who will ever remember
One word of my poems
Or anyone else’s
After a hundred thousand years
What difference does
Any of it make
It’s commendable to have kept trying
For any period at all

Perhaps delusional
We don’t know yet
But commendable

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Deepest Roses

Deepest Roses

Why segregate ourselves
By augmenting and deepening the rifts
Between factions and persuasions
Politics and precepts,
Ethnic and racial divides
With all the claiming and blaming
Politics as usual
Accentuating the differences
Heightening the rage
Building walls, driving wedges
Guzzling the media-centric kool-aid
Spiked with transient
Post modern
Programmable hypnotic implants

Why not celebrate
Things that unite us as human
Things we can do together
What we can learn from each other
What we can give to each other
The things we can heal in each other
One human family
One soul
With liberty and justice
And if not justice
Then mercy
In the pursuit of love
For all
Is what spirituality is,
What religion attempts to be
As a formula, or a system
Or an instruction manual
Or a cultural re-education program
With boxes and boxes
Of time honored methodological tools
To augment the transmission

But if I had a wish to wish
In the garden of flowers and dreams
It would be
To experience the intoxicating fragrance there,
Of your deepest roses

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The Version Of My GOD

The Version Of My GOD

Why focus on death
When you’ve been gifted with some kind
Of special life
You don’t have to look too far
To realize how special it is

Because death
Until now
Has always been an inextricable part of life
A part of the human experience
Is to know death is coming
And to find out what that means

I wasn’t an early bloomer for GOD
I was catholic
So I weeped
When we sang immaculate mary
For some inexplicable reason
For something inexplicable
I find
My semi-unconscious version of my GOD
Perceived back then
Is quite akin
To my semi-unconscious version of my GOD
Perceived today

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The Subtle Palisades

The Subtle Palisades

How can you worship
The dust
Of the one and only sacred feet,
Of sacred feet
That don’t exist?

You savored the subtle essence
But forgot to remember
Nothing exists
But what the ego imagination
Thinks exists
Or allows to exist
Or wills to exist
These are solid rules

But once one dives
Welcome to the subtle palisades
Where the rules begin to blur
And the lines begin to fade

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The Mission

The Mission

Here I sit
In rumination
Reading scripture
The scripture of our ancestors
The voice of the past
The voice that can occasionally
Have that little extra ring of authenticity
To it
Not loud enough for everyone to hear
Easily pooh-poohed and disclaimed
And eventually even criminalized
As detrimental lies

It can’t be quantified
It can’t ever be extrapolated
It can’t be withstood
The voice of the past
Has always been
A cry out to GOD
The monotheistic source of all truth and love
Announcing in ancient languages
With secret meanings –
The dictums of love

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Thought Crime Vampires

Thought Crime Vampires

It’s either cry or write a poem
Or gaze out though this holy night
To where the language of tomorrow
Rushes for the coming light

Careful what they’re asking
Careful what you’re thinking
Careful what you wish for
Careful what you’re given
And for the safety and protection
Of all others
Including to whatever thought crime vampire
Intelligence agency you’ve been assisting
And to whomever’s thought crime kool-aid
They may have recently demanded
You be drinking

Please comply

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Nothing Else To Praise

Nothing Else To Praise

We can only hope to obey
The command of the commander
Without ancient knowledge
What are our chances
The gateway to honor is truth,
But the truth is not found
In the world
Of normal human perception
Beautiful as it may be
The truth
Is more in the revealing of untruth,
If not by anything else
Then by disaster
But I want to please you
With right now
Rather than somewhere down the road,
What you consider avant-garde
Is already old fashioned
In the eyes of truth
Without faith, hope and love
There is nothing else to praise

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The Inside Of The Insider

The Inside Of The Insider

We are all one consciousness
One ocean with trillions
Of drops
Of water
Called souls, atmas, paramatmas
Jivatmas, witnesses,
A student of the Guru
Somewhere in oneness ohm vibration of yoga Allah, Jesus
Yahweh, Jehova, Beloved Avatar
May I shine

Like water shines in the sun
Souls are in the image of GOD
Drops individual entities
Made by GOD
The drop does not realize it is GOD
Until approximately 60,000,000
Births and deaths
Beginning with sub quantum
Inert creatures
Distinct from and
Breathed into spirit
Energy by and for
Existence made by GOD
Progressing through
Stone, metal, plant animal etc. kingdoms
Until finally human –
Indeed being human
One is well on their ways
Somewhere south of only 8.4 million human lifetimes
Remain until you are now inside of the insider

Time heals all wounds
We slowly forget it
It would consume our very will to live
if not forgotten
If we let it

But sanskaras have a way
Of remembering us
Looking into our wounds
Even if we no longer
Through the tears and the scars
In the transcendence of stars
Can’t you see it

The best thing I like about poetry
Is there are no rules
If you agree to pay the price
In being mostly alone
If not in all ways and means
Derisive to the the thoughtlessly derived
For seemingly endless durations
Of lineages and lines
Intertwined
In the bondage of physicality
In the extraction of pure ocean
In celebration of the kingdom of reality

Realizing today
I might never see you again
I just moved wayaway
Perhaps not so faraway today
As information’s technical recognizance
Kicks in
More to survive
Even though I’m old
I seem to continue young again

And what do you know
To actually one day stop wishing
On a star
One of those wild dreams
That fade away
That never had much hope to come true
Anyway
(Who do you think you are)
Certainly not to get away from you
But just to survive
Though I am always with you

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For Any Country To Be

For Any Country To Be

There’s too many americans out there
Who think they’re just not getting
The truth anymore
Living in a country
Where post fact propaganda
Is a pre fact awakening from the nightmare
Where worth is based entirely on economics
Of what’s happening right under the noses
Of anyone who currently
Believes the NEWS as well most other
Media magnate movers and shaker outlets
Are abiding by the law
And disseminating factually impartial
And politically unbiased information
Without deceitful or deliberately misleading intent
Nor do they lie to validate or sanction someone
Else’s obviously perfumed
And sanitized opinions with hidden
Agendas piggybacked in with
The simple purpose
Of dismantling
The ideology that makes everyone equal innately
In the eyes of GOD
Now awakening
Reveals the threads of lies spun
Around the little finger
Of the pied piper
And that’s a dangerous place
For any country to be
Especially one that has
A supposedly democratic government

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Happy Resurrection Day

Happy Resurrection Day

Look!
Look what we got here!
It’s not a scurrying cockroach
Trying to escape
The startlingly brazen light

That’s just another weeping ape
Cried so hard
Wore its own hair away
Clean on down to the naked skin
Lookin’ in on its ugly hairless face
They said it was the acid from the tears
Cried so hard
Through a multitude of
Unremunerative years
Said sorry for being this late
What with close ancestral vagabond wannabes
Forever plunging through the abounding agape
Behind your eyes
Leaving a tiny spec of a token
Behind in their mind
In its stead
In their head
In honor of the honor of the honor
Of the living dead
But never broken
Inscribed inherently
Forever and in everything

I introduced her to
The holy ghost
A true spiritual advisor
Knock knock
And the door will be
Opened to you
In victory and disaster
The breath and life
Of GOD
The epitome of love
And she shook the hand by the heart
Of the ancient fire paraclete

But to her it was an unmitigated unrequested
Unrequited obsolete obstacle
To her true push
And chase of what she termed
The new delusional dragon
Of true happiness
Steeds of perfect
Stunning machiavellian charm
Farms perfect passion
Of the white wash ransomer
In the repressing segregationist prisons
Of women, african americans, hispanics
Orientals, muslims, jews, indians, sikhs, tibetans,
Christian atheist anti-theists and on and on
No irish need apply
Or the silent science of sin
The sin within broken familial muted cries
The hidden unspoken
Viral mortal infectious sin
And many other former pillars
Of the great new culture architecture
Book damning ‘meet and greet’
From shakespeare to dr. seuss
Of the bygone white master race
Hydrogen bomb building patriarch
Claimed a plethora
Of closeted communist columnist
Bigoted anti god theologians for change
Through subjugation
Inner-net democracy strangulation
In the long run
Mark Twain
Missouri

Just to think
I offered her a life boat
And a golden ticket
To cross the harvest king’s
Dire mote
You might think WTF is that now?
To the pot of gold?
To the not a joke?
But she just laughed
And gradually doggie dog paddled herself
Away to a distant forbidden planet
That she owned property on
Before it became forbidden
So we can still go there
With a protracted
Stayaway in
Wayaway
One way only
Happy Resurrection Day
Ever present
USA

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To Be Able To Dunk

To Be Able To Dunk

If I wanted something
What would it be
If today was my birthday
And GOD granted one wish to me
Would it be to be
The first trillionaire
To fly in a yacht
All suave and debonair
To have the power to go
Back and forth in time
To observe other worlds
Other existences
To be invisible at will
To give love to the homeless and the ill
To be able to dunk

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Fortunate

Searching for youth
Beauty and
The delusion of power’s control
With wisdom
A lost and forgotten angel
Straggling somewhere along the road

Sign while the world still loves you
Or go trailblazing through the unknown
The lewis and clark of the soul

Now that you’ve met the Avatar
There’s no longer any need
To regiment your adoration
Think of him
Or any image perceived
To be of him or her or thee
With every breath you breathe

How fortunate am I
To have discovered
The truth of his holy name

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Always Cared

Always Cared

I offer my sorrow up to you
Who doesn’t mainline the pain
Until the whistles blow
And flowers bloom

And the bells blare out
Shouting his holy name
Blessed is he who comes
In the name of the Lord
Hosanna in the highest
Across the country
City
Town
We sang the songs
That tied the missiles to the ground

Our consciousness
Is GOD unrealized realizing
Why do I care
It’s a privilege
It’s a gift
It’s a cross to bear
It’s a crucifix
I care because I’ve always cared

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Until We Turn Each Other In

Until We Turn Each Other In

Oh infinite indescribable
Inexplicable source of love
I long to do your will
But who am I
That I should know what your will is
Every bomb gives credence to the demon
No one can commit murder
If only you were conscious
In their minds

Power
Does not want us to be
Individual people
But a system to be controlled
In order to squeeze out more power
You could say, a tool
It does not want us to be friends
It wants us to fear
And to hate one another
To segregate it spews misinformation
Worships deceit
To tighten its grip

Until we turn each other in

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LUST!

LUST!

GOD gave us lust
So we could learn
What are the gifts
That come from controlling lust
As in redirecting its energy
To higher forms of power
Such as knowing

The difference between
Lust and lovemaking
Is that lovemaking
Gets a pass
From the power that IS
Left out of the equation
And lust doesn’t

Lust anger greed pride
And attachment
But of all these
Lust ordinarily is the one
Gotten rid of last

On the road to sainthood aspirant
Rabbi blessed mother
A road all travel
Sooner or later
We make the same mistake a thousand times
Until we don’t
And that is why forgiveness exists
And why mercy
Is abundantly sought and offered
To whoever places their incapacitation
Into the hands of Jesus Christ

PS: Meher Baba approved…it is written
So be it
Free the falsely accused and imprisoned
Amen

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GOD Gave Me This Poem

GOD Gave Me This Poem

Went through childhood –
Came back broken

No one’s to blame
What good do details do
But muddy up the brain

So I think through the mind’s heart
Which is somehow connected
To the lucid stars
And various transcendental kingdoms
Of irresistible allure and enchantment

But the pain never stops
Tried to fix the disease
Tried and tried harder
Tried so hard I fell to my knees
And gave my anguish to GOD
And GOD gave me this poem

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Breath

Breath

I love you now and forever
For whatever that might be
Do or die
Our hearts are now always together
’Til dreams are made real
With no lies
Forever now or never
But always with you
For real
For what are hearts for
But to love better
As you take your next breath
So do I

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Intrinsic

Intrinsic

Those who exacerbate a calamity
By assigning it
A racial motivation
For the sake of political ideological power
Accentuate our division
Rather than uniting us or healing us
And are the real segregationists
The real racists
The real sexists –
Drenched in strong cologne
While congratulating themselves
As heroes and heroines

Have we learned nothing
From the communist soviet revolution in 1917
Until the fall of soviet communism –
A special christmas present
On december 25, 1991
Where it became abundantly clear
That corruption is intrinsic
In a godless state?

Those who do not learn from history
Tend to repeat it

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Rather Grand Display

Rather Grand Display

As long as it’s GOD’s light
And not mistaken
For the sparking electricity
Of the hormonic glandular system
What’s the difference if they merge
So beautifully either way


The difference is
There is no difference
There is really only one
Rather grand display

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As Love

As Love

Until then I suppose
I only deserve punishment
Being white and a man
And having or not having
Any of the many accused privileges
I’ve been purported to have
Like being hated, berated and blamed
Rightly or wrongly
For every spec of any aspect
Of contemporary human culture
From caveman to commissioner
Being held personally responsible for
And indebted to
Even silenced in political prisons
In recompense for our ancestor’s sins of survival
Sins of greed
Sins of omission
Sins of hope
Sins of misguided compassion
In the mud and the blood and the sweat
Of our magnificent human race

As if I was somehow blessed and free
Of any problems or hurdles of my own
And didn’t deserve respect
Because I had been born given everything
Everybody else merely dreamed of
Or prayed or payed dearly for
In desperation
In the millions of human lifetimes
Of being both woman and man
And everything and every race between
Of any former, current or future humanity
Or beings to be
And that there’s no heaven or hell going on
Inside each human heart I see
A humanity earned
That can’t be stripped
Or replaced
By any form of hate or state
Disguised and proclaimed and enforced falsely
As love

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There’s Something About Duality

There’s Something About Duality

My dearest beloved progenitor:

You made the rules
You obey yourself
And require everyone else to
Or else

Otherwise why the need to manifest
You are everywhere
Always
The is nothing but you

You play your own game
And then say
Stop playing games

Only as children
May we enter the kingdom of heaven
But we have to make
Sober adult decisions

There’s something about duality
That really pisses me off

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Acapulco ‘Neath The Moon Glow

Acapulco ‘Neath The Moon Glow

I start prayer
At the feet of the beloved
In the hour of ambrosia
In the hour of need
And somehow end up in Acapulco
‘Neath the moon glow
Thinking that consciousness
Has no grave or name
Frozen in chimes
Billowing through Parvardigar’s place
Without the trick question
When, where, why, what
Now and forever by whom
If it be thy will be done
Not to mention who’s to blame
And who’s the blamer
On a vast starship fecund seed
To still believe, hope and have faith
As children do
That dreams can come true
That there is a happy ending
And beginning
As we bow in reverent oneness together
Like a drop
Of the glorious hour deep nectar
In
Perpetual
Praise

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GOD’s Plan

GOD’s Plan

I’m just an agent in His plan
A secret service man
Come to pull
That sliver from your finger
Mad to flush that spec in your eye
That scrape on your knee
Chasing the heart that endlessly lingers
I’m just a man of destiny and fate
Saying “look what I can”
Got a photogenic mouth
I can go north or south
Whether inside or out
It don’t do no good to pout
When it’s all part of GOD’s plan