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

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



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

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
How can one be so dumb
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

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



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
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
Where untold ecstasies awaken

Prostrate before the source
Of all creation

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
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

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


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



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