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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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

Celestial Circuitry Transmission

Celestial Circuitry Transmission

I had a great dream
That whoever I could think of
Or picture from here on in
Would be granted their own golden ticket
Right on straight through to heaven, one way
As long as they didn’t forget
It’s easy to lose
Or have stolen away
Bypassing more than a thousand repetition lifetime
Missions
Fresh with the initial morning’s
Sparkling treasure chest gleaming anew

On a deep rich golden shining
Super sunday morning
Bright with hope faith love and wizardry
On a new mission mystery minstrel
To a far fangled palatial bloom epiphany
Yeh dopamine
On a pure rich golden mountain accolade to climb
On tantric buddha inner molecule
Super sun radiant quantum nanite celestial circuitry divine
A meet and greet at renunciation station
Riding a million sprinting carbon fountaining lies
What the secret silent scented ambrosial wave way races
In a final farewell
To a trillion superstition nanite endorphins
Ringing in on this mesmerizing phenylethylamine
House of hope
Riding in on
A caravan of love’s symphony