The Danish Book

 

This is madness upon the sea, 

unreal days and nights

can’t tell one from the other

and I must swallow love in silence.

 

1.

Waking, quaking

times we live in

foundations shook and old alliances dissapeare

with all the ground trembling, it is hard to think.

In cities fear stalks the streets and all around

a macabre dance in the name of peace

 

2. 

Dawn full of diamonds strewn across the parking lot,

a placard advertising enemies

 

3. 

If you’re going to drive recklessly

do it with a mad grin

charles the IIIrd was a bear 

who conquered France to startle the love of his life

 

4. 

Exile from the ante

see that there was surrender and hope

all the green angels came rushing in through the back door

and the lady lit up like smoke peering through her sun spun silk 

white dress

 

5. 

You want me to make a sanctimonious vision of the city with its bohemian nooks

to be delivered to innocents who believe in reality

but the city is subtle

in all its little evils

and piling ons of side acts and freak shows

it’s a fury unfathomable

and twice the terror of truth

let me hang around washington

during the last days of the empire

let me sail down to cuba with my brother in arms

all these things

are not the city

 

6. 

My friend Harry is a brave man, 

maybe he is my only true friend.

Cus he beats me over the head and takes me in to a two man army

where everything is life or death

and drags me in to the storm in my underwear

and makes me sail and threatens my life

and forces me to survive.

 

7.

love is a treacherous commitment

in which you can’t be afraid of getting hurt

devestated and thrown about

as if through a storm 

after seven weeks of sun

 

8.

How you live is what you risk to live and dare to do

inspite of all opposition

 

9.

With love that loses itself like a sugar cube in water

rain on my days

I was dreaming

in the choir where we all wake up

 

10.

If you had scanned through my instagram

you would know who I really am

 

11.

To be wild, free, corageous

that which she wishes to tame above the radio droning

in all the little cinders

 

12.

Exactly where you are and who you’re with

I can’t care to seek an answer

you broke a camel’s back with a mouth full of marbles

and you strung a temptor’s tale around my sympathy

no more love can come

I just have to run

time to change

all for adam and the apple that he ate

it’s a cub in a cage

shock fielding find

delicately mashed light

 

13. 

In a swimmer’s vision placards and pleasing the pope were an option

redact reality to the fine tooth comb of a milk white bone

with her gums bleeding cherry red

and gold shadows on the marble wall

 

14. 

Just went to the white house for the second time

t’was much less exciting than the first

I recognised it as a totem pole

where power was vested by those who believed in it

the atmosphere was no different from a very fine restaurant 

albeit where terrifying decisions are made

They decided to drop the atom bomb

 as a lump of broiled duck slipped off a

 silver spoon in to a thin watery vegetable broth

& why they were allowed to be made I had no idea. 

The way the chips fall shows who’s chosen

one to lead-one is frozen

 

15. 

love is blind

but marriage is two people 

who put up with each other

when together but can’t live without each other

when apart

 

16. 

It’s true that my soul is on fire

since I haven’t seen you

it’s burning down like the roman empire

all the gods perish and the horizon sings

A town crier rattles the bells

cinnomen scents sift though the air

and every listless summer breeze 

reminds me of you and your waving locks of borrowed hair

and that we are not immortal 

and that love is not a game

 

17.

Beggars ever wonder why the precious ones 

leave for spies

you can’t rest a troubled mind 

on the bending, breaking, shaking bones

she gives me the dust bone chills

 

18.

don’t you see that all my temper comes from jealousy?

don’t you see that all my anger comes from pain?

don’t you see that all my madness comes from missing you?

and that other men could only ever love in vain?

 

19.

The train whistles in the distance as you travel through my mind

nothing’s moving now, not even time

 

20. 

Strange, pain jumps like a fox 

fire jumps like a newt 

a dragonfly hovers over a pool of lillies

sign posts spin in the wind

He sets forth 

that’s a world weary traveller

and in the centre of a stone

a man is made. A woman brings him to his knees

Inspite of all his power 

he is a quivering rake

without her, and banished from love

he returns to work, to books, to leather jackets and motorbikes

and to hell on earth.

 

Poems from Greece

 

All the dead heat is against the law

we made a wager with the waves

we, who tried to set fire to the village

so we could free the town’s people from fear

the yellow elevator to the top 

has rusty copper beams

and all the wireless children 

spit words in to thin air

 

*

 

after lunch

when the sun settles between 

the wavering leaves

when passers by sniff their nose to find a corner of beauty 

dimitrious and pantelis are deeply in love

and I have nothing to do but lick the salt from my skin

bow to the sun

and sit still 

while an earth quake does its business in my soul

 

*

 

This is maniacal,

as the ships come in and out of the harbour

and the shadows of birds from a hundred feet up skate across the cobble stone ground

the shop vendors fleece you for a ticket to heaven 

and it all comes too easy for the alley cats: pretty, poisoned and flee bitten 

flanked fish lined up in red and silver 

hatchet for a flash fry

and the rocks like devil teeth gnawing the sky

all roads lead to the top of the mountaine

where 3 monks sit fig faced and glowing from the day

under a giant oak whose very trunk 

is laughing with the wind

anticipating the coming storm

----------

If you love a flower do you own it?

do you only water it so you can cut its head off?

If you feed a dog and show it affection

only to instill faith in it so you can send it to the wolves

then I say you are no lover

If you love a living thing so much

you would strangle it till out of breath

so you say you love me

then you are no lover

would love for once be a genuine compassion for another life's growth

for we will surely die

yet if we truly love life

then it must be more than our own

and so love

is not in what we own

but what we can let go of

so to pass it on 

towards

 life

eternally

not just our own

 

CHARITY

 

You bastards!

 

let me sooth you,

 a spiritual lullaby

come now,

don't be afraid

I have your attention

 

Like the master who uses a whip

to catch the eye

I, in turn,

curse

to silence the sky

 

Absence of rain fall this season

dried out bubble of cliffs

the rain rides through the ridges

and summons the suicide drips 

over the edge

brave as the weather

see man trembling 

on a falcon's feather

We have ambitions in grid lined streets

as with birds pecking worms 

between autumn leaves

 

under the banner of the rich

a hut in the mud

thud on the door

taxing the poor

now emperors are gone

state's ideal shone

stood tall

for you all

a marble statue and a wall

 

the goad tied to the goat

 rich or fry trying 

impunity, impeachment, they've seen it all too soon

these young born in a burst balloon

-----------

 

India

a family living through another monsoon

why us? they ask

why not them? they ask

and nature carries on 

we follow her task

and unto her we do

that is what is done to us

life is a feeding ground

a forest 

a blood bath

the sap of amber wrapped around a bug

the guillotine falls on a revolutionary thug

over there on the map

wrapped around this frame

they curse the weather

and send it far from here

and before I could reach them

they saw through words too

 

This was the world

and what could they do?

The Titans

There the titans rise

who throw no sacred seed 

to the wind

who waste no breath 

on trivialities

who do not talk about unnecessary things

there go the titans

who have not wasted time

who in doing

undo

who are not philanders

and falsifiers

there go the titans

who do not lie 

or steal

who walk with the apes 

and eat with baboons

who sleep amongst tigers

and hunt with the wolves

who scream with the rivers

and release with the rain

there they are

they do not even know you

and they can not be named

 

*

 

In all offices high and remote

no sex is being done

no love makers 

no charmers

why not the jungle?

because-

civilization.

 

Street Kids

 

strain as vendors close shop 

but the game of backgammon won't stop

they have taken off from the walls all the clocks

and playing on the back of a water collection truck

 

'you're built like a matchstick

and will snap like a matchstick

the big fish survive eating the 

small fish'

 

these are the big wigs at the factory

they've seen them come and go

the rag picker in kalkuta slums

mumbai back street entrepreneurs

livelihood of torn asunder ships

sprinkled apart scrap metal sellers

butchered by hammer with a head dress and helmet

sweating in the sweet summer sun

and the smoke claws out from the glass sand ground

the juice of sweat pours from them

they watch as the turbine spins round

she's seen many seas

and this is a butcher's shop

only for the poet to peel back in laziness 

a one way dream to a lifetime in haziness

hard work unfettered and no time to waste

pragmatists, vendors, out on the chase

the only way going now is straight

and the currency flowing determines each fate

for without money begging

the work is your prayer

and your skill is your acting in total despair

and then in to gutters

you crawl to find gold

and rise at 3 in the morning 

by the river to be sold

----------

problems! problems!

you can't live without them

-----------

Big Poppa's Recitation before a real live audience

 

*Everyone comes in*

 

"When he round wound to finally do it-

commit himself to the act..

he looked inside for words

which were letters hung on the hind hairs of memories

ciphers, floating in untraceable lands

these are conspicuous characters 

writers

and you have reason to be suspicious

 

 

A reality

ever changing

they are jailers of moments

abstract craft's men

in the realm of mathematics

reeds and harmonies

not much different from a harmonica player

unaware of the combination of forces

carrying the chord

through the wind

 

do you believe what they say?

I wouldn't

I would listen

and in forming these frescoes 

they form themselves too

an identity to hinge on them selves

 

but what is true?

well..well now

let's go back

memory? or motion?

time? or the stars?"

 

*laughter & applause*

*the children fall asleep*

 

"I know, looking up at night

that all the light traveling to greet me

 is more often than not

an image long gone

trailed off and slipped in to the jaws of the night that is all pervasive 

and greets every moon 

in every far off galaxy

how do we not know about the mind of matter looking at us

and every dark side and every light source

 

what spark set the motion for suns?

how does a ball of fire make itself? 

what were the laws of shadow acting on every rock and every lost continent?

every planet has gusts and gales

and all by proportion of such balance and harmony

we live on a floating world

by way of an inharmony that grates simplicity of mind

and laws can not help the world falling off of itself

we, commanded by gravity and weather

and not by pens and walls

and the further we seek

stranger is the universe

stretching outwards to settle here

 

I can see the shapes 

and hear the sounds

and I am no different

I can dive in to their depths

We all eat the ashes of our ancestors

and run on the fuel of an age

 

Tribal lines have tricked us

and the change in a distant land

their empires are for spices

not unlike our own

like the tulip craze

but the plants have horns

and the trees have heads

but play games on city streets

wrenched out of stillness observed

why not enough?

as small as dust and as great as the blackness of blindness

playing for money 

playing for keeps

 

Writers

the swallowing ocean

or the waters

or the furies

or fire 

the whip lash of winds

rides over the mountains

sculpting them 

 

that looking up in to mid space

a wash board of worlds, whizzing over passes and trains

In New York, with actors, walking up and down streets

crossed by numbers

muttering and dancing, playing themselves an identity, convincing others.

Telling me they're selling me their future 

You could trade yourself for just about anyone

Who sculpts our head and our hand? 

time? fate? the earth, the land?

well I'm a lucky guy ma'

Got to see it all

 

Well now these writers, 

they might not be the wind but they may catch it

they might not be the crowd but they express it

and you can be a writer of sounds

writer of pictures

and a writer of words

all the same

 

Don't show me your junk yard

show me your laughter

and be no witness of what you don't want to consume you

dwell in the worlds of your making or your taking

all children are free

and will pass by the world as so

if they choose to"

 

*the children wake up

the audience claps and leaves*

 

---------

 

Book of Open Thoughts

 

would i travel to foreign lands

there's a winged goat that lies

there I fly too

and landing where I want

I make delightful diamonds

out of pig styes 

 

*

 

Not in monasteries will I find god

Nor in a book

in comfortable contemplation

I will find god

while tilling the fields in old age

knee deep in mud

wringing my hands through worms 

and thorns 

and vegetables 

I will find god

cooking a fish with a lemon in its mouth 

at the age of 76

with ripe wreathing skin

and a tangled secret beard

I will find god

setting wood on fire

on the sand at night

cooking something I caught with my own hands

and spitting in the air

I will find god 

dancing with my daughter

kicking a ball 

I will find god 

in the ocean

 

*

 

Three fourths of cold water

a spoon of madness

then you have work worth doing

 

*

 

What strange turns

buds that sprang a year back

are now in full bloom

soon the seasons will turn again

and these thoughts too will shed their coats

I will be naked again

and this too shall pass

for I will be clothed

though this too shall pass

life shall pass

then death shall come

this too will pass

 

every day the deepest mysteries of the universe

reveal themselves to him who is awake 

 

to the one 

who has no intention

 of seeing anything 

quite too specific

 

*

 

 

I am afraid some will assassinate the figures

rather than the figures within themselves

with the figures gone

to whom will people look

who were grounded in identity 

with a figure head

then they will pour over each other

in war and destruction

seeking in each other what they could not find in themselves

they will find it

though not in this world

 

*

 

Zenith

 

I follow the path

in your light

though at the zenith

I turn to your dark

and follow my light

 

*

 

The landscape was different then

man's mark was not upon it

 all over it

he had not scarred the earth with infinite roads

 

 this nature

was one that could also be seen

as inside him 

 

*

 

It was the heathen

hanging on to the helm

under a hood

hoping for the happiest

hand

to handle hell

he will come through

you will listen

when the dust settles

you will hear

he has spoken

 

*

 

There is a time

when a strong demon appeared before my eyes

see its best qualities

then we have a point of getting along

and so I fed him wine 

and we got drunk together

he was full of energy

waiting for love

 

 

I am imperfect

did you not see the squirrel dig a hole in to the great oak?

like heroes

 

---------

 

//i 

 

I am an animal

With nostrils

blood running through me 

there's no need to make it any clearer

for I am hungry

and eat what I need

 

There is a parade winding around every corner

they're covering up themselves

lurking around in a disguise

As if they weren't 

 

Then they never will

the dead spirits will wander

for those who did not feast in life

will try to seize those 

who are mad eyed and full of lust

 

-----------

 

The Moon Book

 

Experiments in Imagination

 

-The experiments lie in giving room for the rising of pictorial or automatic writing, visual or auditory hallucinations, willed up without any external help.

The experiment is to culminate material for the unconscious to assimilate in to reality.

The first function can be by means of dialogue. 

Discussions with ones genius to be recorded

 

Questions: the unconscious of the individual reflecting the general unconscious of the state or the environment, or the world

 

-------

 

The Desert

 

One day 

I will wonder

in to a purple sky

draped over the black hills

the spit of white stars above

not mixed yet

 

There in a cave

by my own fire

I will see the dance 

 

There in the dance as I get tired

I will see a face

There in the face I will see a flame

is it the flame

or is it I

the face?

 

Then I will look back to the stars

and that will be my cave

 

 

 

------------

Gold in the Shadow

 

Born out of silk loin cloth

licked in lapis blue boy 

drenched in dharma of dusk dust

the way is always there

when windows wide open

the world wakes its way forward

Shot out of a curdled eye light

crusaders

waking up and slapping the turgid fantasy of an island life

strung out with a fast striped strike with a bowie knife

like a thief in the night

Drawn from vanity's side lamp

the dance of eternal romance

to keep the bobby lights lit mapped

No blue boy, brown boy, night boy crossed over rail tracks

and spat in the red rooster claw tracks

this man hung the law like no other can

and put it right back in to true circulation:

and made it his waiting station 

to live like no other can

to dance through life 

 

 

No angels were there that night

 

In a striped night party

Celebration of silk and slick life

Struck out street man 

Dancing naked rumba, elevated lust

glorious midnight dreamer-wrenched his tusks 

and did you know elephants were afraid of mice?

denied by petty wives

and pretentious oligarchs 

just sitting there waiting for their pretty feathers to be plucked

by the right hand of a revolutionary

single handedly 

 

 

the party 

 

the meeting

 

the sex

 

the birth

 

the boy

 

the fantastic automobile childhood and avid imagination, like a magicians girl child

 

the strip split in two between what they want of you and what you want to do

 

split between heart and mind

 

they battle it out, they almost kill each other

 

advice, wild advice from the gold in the shadow burlesque show and circular playground of life 

 

 when finally the mind concedes and agrees to be mastered by the heart. Oh sure

 

We seek to liberate people from the tyranny of music imposed from ABOVE! let there be an expression of music from BELOW

 

The Bottom seems to be falling out

I was once on the top

purveying the angles of the clouds

to see which way the wind wanted to walk

can't stand it anyhow

The sequester has hung his bills 

on the dull end of a semester

a hundred holy cows

sludge through the mud with a rusted plough

 

They prayed in rain, they slept through fire

and now they're stepping down

The ministers have made their magic in to money

and done away with the prophets, the priestesses and the doorways

 

In the school boy hall

soldiers are being trained

 

Who is the experiment in the science lab?

The frogs have been finding heaven and not done things 

that were necessarily evil

and not cutting up another thing just to get used to it anyhow

 

the models have been made to beg

to be hung on an old clothes peg

the piano has been thinking

it's time to stop drinking

The Dancers

 

Th only question in the dance

Is who is the best dancer?

 

Many dancers are very technical

they know the rudiments

They are clear, concise and concentrated

Yet they don't move us, they have no grace 

They are divisive

Without love

And will look like fractured bells

All but 

totally cracked down the middle

 

Yes, 

and you have dancers

Who burst with feeling 

with love 

Are so charged with the river of emotion

You know not

From where it wheeled up 

They rush and gasp and breathe and leap and linger and fail and fluster

Without containment

They will expend themselves

and fall

 

What happens when the curtain closes though?

There,

you will find the best dancer

 

For she is the one who is still dancing

and not cutting up another thing just to get used to it anyhow

 

Once I stood looking

Looking around me

and many people were standing there looking back

It was certain something was happening of importance

They were looking for someone to look at 

and at that

they were fixed for sure that he was fixed

and he was surely fixed himself

or as such, saw himself as so

And we all stood there looking at the image and it was steadily fixed

and the image saw itself as frozen

and stuck there too, to its position quite clearly with no breaks slipping on either side

Though eventually something broke

something came through

behind the image was an ocean

a funny ocean

one with many fish

many colors

and qualities to it

it was an ocean great and small

it pretended to be nothing at all

it was thin and tall

but just like a wall, minuscule and crawling

ah! that ocean 

where love rides its boat in full circles

 

See we do not die by never becoming

Finally the tension of nothingness in this fixed image became too strong

then the ocean battled through the image and washed all of us clean

some started laughing

some started crying

it was very hard being one thing

or being another

more over

a terribly serious communicator

A savior 

a self sacrificer

well isn't that an image then?

isn't that a poser?

some were just so damn sure there was something to look at

to fix at

to focus on

but no,

no, there was nothing

It was very simple

there was nothing

They were hanging to flags

We were hanging against flags

They were hanging on thoughts

We were hanging against them 

They were wearing riot gear

We were charging against them

What fools! what divine fools!

Yes set up a gate and you invite the thief

Make a lock and then you will have your lock picker 

It's a prickly situation becoming and becoming

But here, 

here's my secret:

I am the shape shifter

The banshees of old

There's nothing to be afraid of

Especially now,

you know. 

 

*

 

Them moving by not moving

Them becoming by not becoming

Them caring by not caring

Them being born by not being born

Them shape shifting by not changing

Them hanging on by letting go

Them living by dying

I! am I one to know?

Them singing by sitting silent

Them sweet by bitter taste

Them political by not preaching

Them saintly by sinning

Them lovers by hating

Them hungry by starving

Them night by day

I! am I one to know?

Them desperate by easy going 

Them tall by perspective

Them sunshine by raincloud

Them serious by no serious 

Them saying by not saying

Didn't I already say that?

Them fearful by being fearless

Whatever it all means

It means all but meaning

Ay! Ay! 

Ay! Ay!

Isn't it easy to see?

Ay! Ay!

Ay! Ay!

Isn't it easy to see through it?

Ay! Ay!

Ay! Ay!

I'm going far away 

each and every day

to a simple place

where love is free to play

 

There is no hindrance 

Here

 I hope for the song

Sung,

sweet love

There is all in all 

And none for one

for zero

yes

zero

is the only number

 

we're here in this fire breathing hexagon

the rhythm of ceaseless striving

are we a part of it or are we IT?

how will a singular mind see the whole when he is part of it spectacular?

he must eat every day

may he eat dirt?

may he do what is hardest or what is easiest?

when a hundred heads turn in to one

he will ask 

who deserves the water more?

who has more hunger?

and who's hunger is worth more?

who's child is more child like?

under who's curtains most diving

when a beggar is shakes on a street corner

and a shopper's cart under plastic dream bags

for every mother and daughter

there's a child seeking a home

or a hundred or so

from just one, there are a hundred more

a simple tradition kept on

kept afloat

working hard, for the path they chose

it's not too late 

was it the prostitutes that kept him from rising

the geishas or the maids?

was it a simple life served up?

in which way did it pay?

was he enchanted by the dancers on the dimly lit stage?

in agony moaning, like a dying flame?

a half cocked head spinning but only for one day

-

have you seen the airplane graveyards?

they flew high once

carried hundreds of people back and forth

there's a million miles to go they say

and then here they are

lying in the sun

what a day

-

have you seen the oil wells burning?

the dance of blackened flames?

rivers of smoke reach up to the skies

while the glass sea mirrors the way

a war raged round the peripheries

while the mars red miners craved

and shovelled sacks of sandy soot

in to a furnace for their pay

with holes for eyes 

and buttered bread

a criminal's disgrace

in the same such fate

ditched diamond lives

scratching at the gates

I will not try to poeticise the cries of a baby in this place

I will not try to poeticise the photographer who framed their every face

I will not try to poeticise the lies, whether they be this or that other race

I will not try to poeticise the mind of the murderer in our wake

and who to these hell hole starters?

is there an answer one could claim?

is there any way to question the mind that does nothing but obeys

As goodas robots, not worth a minute 

and go to hell if I'm not raised

better be hell raiser

than do what others say

-

 

A silent soldier

onlooker

passing by

the smog filled day

the grey abandon 

block steal mansions

criminals in caves

politicians

writing laws

on paper they get payed

in life though

breathless

ceaseless

restless

til 

once

look

a lonesome 

grave

 

-

 

A statue's a stolen moment

a mind altered for the day

under three hundred foot wheels of ground

an army made of clay

head band, tied up, trusted to change

and their horses looking brave

the craft work, see here each face 

different

yet the same

I was a ghost in the ancient towns, 

until they all decayed

I stalked the coliseums over

and over again

through dust blown aeons

wiped away

and only bones remained

for all my friends had surely gone

I could no longer stay

 

-

 

In the shadow of the true triangle

some forms are carved

between the shadows of night and day

a dog headed pharaoh

 a bhoddhisatva 

with cracking lips, and a vine piercing through his all seeing eyes

rotting vegetation turning in the sun

like a dancer's waking dream

Had I been in the temple 

I would be wondering, away from the city's chase

I would sleep by the fire

and breathe life through the nose of noses

that is my nose

kissing the dirt

In the temple 

I am eternity

but outside too

as all stretches out 

am I?

I am?

away from the darkness

now the true light

the fool had left the cave

-

Trees sprouting out of the house of god

leaves growing on the house of god

the sun spilling through the house of god

darkness covering the house of god

memories of the house of god

I forget 

I can not hide

in the house of god

-

 

She washes her hands with the water of the rivers

offering her exchange up to the sun, she smiles looking down in to her hand filled redemption

for in this act she forgets she is one

 

-

 

I was once wandering down the rivers of Varanasi

flowers drifting down with candle light sinking

funeral pyres,  spurting embers, fire flies darting out of a suspended life

memories now

that was another day

watching ancient women put in their false teeth

while aged husbands washed their sins away

a small boy led me to a carpet maker's home

In getting lost I remembered to play

What is it that drives us to think of ourselves better?

than what? the animals?

the grass? the rain?

I am nothing without the sun

nothing without sleep

nothing without day

this I learned as I kicked over the golden water filled basin

I couldn't have learned this with a thousand careers

a thousand erections point me which way?

a thousand lusty women could only force me in to a narrower frame

Contemplation on all that passes before me

continuously open to spontaneous change

the details of a man's face

are the rifts in a flower's blades

and the juice of a strangled goat

what is a vegetable's blood?

a fruit's sour liver?

where is a palm tree's mind?

where is the mind of change?

show me the hand of sorrow

show me the eyes of fate

show me the lips of forgiveness

show me the ears of hate

We live in a world full of furies and gods

Inside of each of us

and each of us the same

Then learn to look

learn to listen

no one is as different 

or as similar as you might claim

nor root, nor vine, nor flesh nor spine, nor single chick 

nor cow nor mind, nor face, nor cloth, nor bug, nor moth

nor number nor moment

what is it?

I can't say

-

This fire

has burned for thousands of years

sit by the river

can you hear it?

-

when does sound start?

when does sound stop?

the dragon is dressed up!

I am found, I am lost

-

success is utterly meaningless

as much as the self in the mirror

once you are on the lips of people 

you are banished from the pleasure of being

awash as a cipher in the one of all eternal

by that I mean the charred face of a funeral pyre

by that I mean the clouds swallowing each other in a quick sand fire

by that I mean the humble monk bowing to the bell

the breeze of leaves

washing themselves

by that I mean the thick rope, its croaks, its strangeness, its clicks

by that the life on the mountain

the early rise

and the poet's fountain

-

In the mean time have you gone to the tribes?

the sun bathed tsan warriors?

with eclipsed eyes?

have you gone beyond your own locked door?

what you once were 

you are no more

have you yourself been lost

or do you guard your image of god from loss

do you hold on to that false carved cross

when there's crucifixions daily in our false thoughts?

but I give it to those in robes

who love the secret 

that no one knows

-

I might as well say it straight

with all our spills 

all our postulation and insistence on exerting ourselves

in our claims of who we are and why we do

I think back to far away, 

the world knows I'm in every face

the world knows I need no change

Yet I hunger for the eternal place

in the restless mirror of ceaseless change

-

for me the whole thing is TOO spectacular

all of the world's wonders spill over in to each other

the faiths of the world will meet as one

holiness in to holiness

flame in to flame

let there be no repetition

no easing of the wonder

no easing of the balance for which is needed pain

-

 

 

 

 

No I didn't come out here to win

for a mantlepiece of glory

I didn't come out here to write home 

any victory stories

I didn't even come out here

to behead the bulls, the zebras, the lions, the lone wandering dears

I didn't come out here to hunt for my prize, by torturing others, raised by their demise

I didn't come out here to fight the good fight, and smile like the devil behind a saint's disguise

I came out here to sing

a song of surrender

I came out here

to write poems for leapers

ha!

I came out here to be a jew amongst jews

a muslim amongst muslims

in world beyond rules

I came out here

to bow very low

not to a master

but to the river 

the road

I came out naked

and that's how I'll go

I came out as I am

beyond body and bones

 

The dream of a thousand dandelions

dallying over a drifting field

 

This one short lover girl

who oscillated between fat and thin

beautiful and ugly

short and small

took me away from the girl who I lye with 

she took me to a green hotel

that had floors that would get greater or smaller 

she was sometimes inviting and sometimes not

but I did not sleep with such a maiden

A man from a very famous band 

was peddling me and pushing me to put out my album

he was saying 'it's on fire' light of lights and sun of suns

you have been all over the place

A man wondering in from the secret ruins of stone henge

I recognize him and say

this is a druid!

a druid of the white goddess!

He has a long whit beard

yet I am suspicious of his hocus pocus druidry 

for he has not experienced the white goddess

and only worships her image instead of living it

all the same I want to tell him of my powerful dream

yet it all seems like it's too much for him to bear

he turns away from me

so I know…

this man can not be quite the real thing

no 

the experience is the real thing

 

Spiritual Exercises

 

These are spiritual exercises 

my dear boy

what are you afraid of?

Why don't you join in?

 

if you see something that looks fun

that other people are doing 

and it makes no sense

like dancing

dancing doesn't make sense

or singing

for no reason

join in

they know the wind dances 

and the earth sings

so they do it too

there is nothing strange about that

whatever it is

 

'I have something I must explain to you!'

…then I say…run a mile

Never now

when the sun goes down

the change in the weather sweeps through the town

the mother fails to find the father

the father's a clown

one looking for integrity

one looking for the crown

 

World folk performer/poetry and taking all music from all over and love and music all over from all over and music every year quiet songs, loud songs, beauty songs, and silent just quiet and then louder and then all the music and all the world in one and sing one, though from the river and point back to the river and take that far far far 

and then point back 

and then pictures

and then world culture, all essential cultures and essential gods come together and then songs blend together though the source is clear the source is bright 

the candlesticks are glowing, the singers see the sun rising and I mean really see the sun rising this time like they always did or should or would or could singing world songs from the world

and then the drawings come over me 

and the pictures come over me

yes the world turns

turns inside of me

Book of Open Thoughts

 

would i travel to foreign lands

there's a winged goat that lies

there I fly too

and landing where I want

I make delightful diamonds

out of pig styes 

 

*

 

Not in monasteries will I find god

Nor in a book

in comfortable contemplation

I will find god

while tilling the fields in old age

knee deep in mud

wringing my hands through worms 

and thorns 

and vegetables 

I will find god

cooking a fish with a lemon in its mouth 

at the age of 76

with ripe wreathing skin

and a tangled secret beard

I will find god

setting wood on fire

on the sand at night

cooking something I caught with my own hands

and spitting in the air

I will find god 

dancing with my daughter

kicking a ball 

I will find god 

in the ocean

 

*

 

Three fourths of cold water

a spoon of madness

then you have work worth doing

 

*

 

What strange turns

buds that sprang a year back

are now in full bloom

soon the seasons will turn again

and these thoughts too will shed their coats

I will be naked again

and this too shall pass

for I will be clothed

though this too shall pass

life shall pass

then death shall come

this too will pass

 

every day the deepest mysteries of the universe

reveal themselves to him who is awake 

 

to the one 

who has no intention

 of seeing anything 

quite too specific

 

*

 

 

I am afraid some will assassinate the figures

rather than the figures within themselves

with the figures gone

to whom will people look

who were grounded in identity 

with a figure head

then they will pour over each other

in war and destruction

seeking in each other what they could not find in themselves

they will find it

though not in this world

 

*

 

Zenith

 

I follow the path

in your light

though at the zenith

I turn to your dark

and follow my light

 

*

 

The landscape was different then

man's mark was not upon it

 all over it

he had not scarred the earth with infinite roads

 

 this nature

was one that could also be seen

as inside him 

 

*

 

It was the heathen

hanging on to the helm

under a hood

hoping for the happiest

hand

to handle hell

he will come through

you will listen

when the dust settles

you will hear

he has spoken

 

*

 

There is a time

when a strong demon appeared before my eyes

see its best qualities

then we have a point of getting along

and so I fed him wine 

and we got drunk together

he was full of energy

waiting for love

 

 

I am imperfect

did you not see the squirrel dig a hole in to the great oak?

like heroes

-------

If you love a flower do you own it?

do you only water it so you can cut its head off?

If you feed a dog and show it affection

only to instill faith in it so you can send it to the wolves

then I say you are no lover

If you love a living thing so much

you would strangle it till out of breath

so you say you love me

then you are no lover

would love for once be a genuine compassion for another life's growth

for we will surely die

yet if we truly love life

then it must be more than our own

and so love

is not in what we own

but what we can let go of

so to pass it on 

towards

 life

eternally

not just our own

----------

It is the dawn of an interesting era,

Strange winds blow through the city

the sirens are singing as they pass through the streets

but they almost sound like a memory now

we can talk

we can talk 

you and I

as a wash of waterrips through the strangleholds

we will come even closer

and we'll have to talk

what things we can do together

you and I

---------

America

 

He was a maker and breaker of both inner and outer worlds

dancing on death

There defying the day

 

Down in to nothing

what once was glorious 

now black clouds

there no imagination

 

The word has been written before 

it will be written once again

 

It will be broken

then it will be born again

 

*

 

He was an explorer of both inner and outer worlds

To realize his visions he had to go forth

for staying still

 

Cold winds blow through the buildings built up

bright windows on every floor 

Many efforts are made in each and every way

morbid energies mix in an emerald sky, 

hazziming in to grey

Laughter only in the night

Black booths take flight

sparkling in to a varnish

 

Immediately

 

We want to feel like what we're getting in to is dangerous

like it is twisted

everything that is exposed on the outside reveals our deepest desires

and then they turn in to themselves burning right up

Only the man who has become a saint can laugh while sinning

 

Our myths then,

are not performed through light or through arrows of the hose of television turning in the night

the moon eyes simply and silently 

quietly 

moving

people clicking 

clicking

picking and wishing

the running halls and museum walls all lined up with old faces, misplaced in a strange string of cases

courts and court masters paled in comparison to their black backdrop

grown like a cancer

about to be cut off from the soil

in men, here, I see nothing but dark eyes.

 

Where the eyes are turned inwards

there shall you strike

upon every age, history burns

but it is only that fire before the night

and come again, we live our lives, impossibly without meaning, but then we grow

and we learn to know

sweet music 

takes over 

it is not a farce or make pretend

the truth is in the seasons

 

What does the day mean?

What does the night mean?

running forward in blind abandon!

 

Your molecular pills are dropping all over the floor

 

Your gold snake is erupting with eggs through the mouth

 

Ecstatic joy coming for a million years or more

the universe is but one prolific unending orgasm

It is only that we have become possessive of sexuality that it kills us, it is the becoming of a part of the greater sexual organ of all life that life becomes ecstatic, for to please her, we are great people, we are great poets, orators, singers,  the singing man is the singing of nature herself, we are of her, our little burned lips, we are the sputtering and mutterings of her, crying outwards, those who do it worst are those who do it anyways, yet try to conceal it, while those who do it best are the joyous and the open hearted, deaf to man's miseries and open to chaos, and nature's unpredictabilities that move through him. High up!  High up! Rise! Rise! out of your nation and in to oblivion. there is love there.

*

You judge me not for functioning outside of the state, you would not accuse a beggar or a homeless, if you judge me, you judge me for how I provoke you, how I twist you, and should my language mix through the cement. You would be fooled, and your period in time is then already over.

 

There is nothing to do.

But go out and give all your money to beggars

you will soon become one too.

Though, for more than just pennies

That's the change

and there's no going back

 

*

 

Man

I sat twanging that guitar chord

it ran through me like a shiver up my spine

it was a spider leg that I plucked

and I picked up where I left off

that gold wrote itself off

no more

now down the drains

the gutters

the sewer 

out in to the ocean

back to where it belongs

tomorrow it will be raining again

riddling and rhyming

that's where I'll be

 

In the snowstorm 

every year

 

In the sun

every year

 

I'll be inside all things every year

ever more 

forever

I always was

That you were too

 

*

 

At times it were called upon him

to step out of the ring

The artist makes it his business to depict all man's games

yet who is the one not playing?

then not in history

then not in time

then one

but nature

who can touch that person?

it is no one

 

I remember a few old things from the land that I lived in

Strange how artistshad become some kind of religion

culture was religion in the land I came from, it was where people got their nourishment from, their understanding of life

The land I'm in has culture crucified and surpressed, in this land it is money that is religion, time that is religion, schedules and politics, that is religion, fame is religion, culture, culture is found in the cracks, maybe. 

 

The police and the military were in place to implement the idiot ideas of those in power

Those in power were there because of the naive ideals of those on the bottom

and so the world turns

 

Stand outside of this circle

none can touch you

have no government

no boarders

no attachments

no ideals

everything under your tongue

tasting delicious

the world is one

and it is yours 

so you are the king

and always have been

but blind

wake up 

 

Non reality

needs reality 

to be non real

whatever is inside us

needs to be manifested

to validate that which is inside us

 

The point is, 

never retire from doing the magical work

The world dips in and out of awareness

though why should you?

beautiful as you are

there is no need to change

Ah!

Work it will come in handy

people need so much more than ever to see what they don't see in themselves

 

*

 

The question is always 

when can spirit simply be spirit?

without condition, without seeking reward 

without hope for gain or loss

without looking to be heroic?

when can spirit simply endlessly express itself? without limit, without pretense

without image or antecedent

just as it is

Well it is

you

 

 

----------

Good god almighty

what have I done?

where am I going 

and why am I stuck?

is it that I have not loved enough?

is it you are in me or I'm in you?

is it that as it is

I can't conform

Give me the world's stage 

and then I'll perform

I'll court the tempest 

and weather the storm

I'll rouse from the depths 

so new life can be born

Though I fear to step in to 

all things time worn

It is but that which is magical

in which I wish to be born

a sense of the impossible

shall become the norm

that which is too great

will be careless yawn

That in the night

that makes all men fear

will be whipped in to daylight

the truth will be clear

for I pray

yes I pray

and this a prayer

a private one held in my mind's secret lair

this is not meant for the eyes nor the ears

only for nature's power that always hears

--------

Love had

is the most painful love

love possessed is love tangled

love unattainable. trampled. 

Terse tongues tucked in to one another clucking

tracking each other down

taking over 

in tandem 

tracing 

tricks

turned inside out

Terrible

-----------

not another turn

burning up in the ivory tower

 

 sun sinking 

what do you see for me?

I hid in the realms of children's games 

not nothing here is real

 

Just the sheathe of make believe

the face hiding behind the veil

You want the poet to speak with a voice

of vengeance 

true and free

a voice beyond the drab methodical 

sinews of reality

as I said: from aplace not real

A voice defying nature's clasp

Chaos follows me wherever I go

A voice as finely carved as glass

unbreakable, I'm told. 

Spilling the marble matchsticks on the felt tip floor

the ruby purple door

open it 

on to balanced sea shores

the dial of the dreaming

dramatic

I know there's no specialization

that can save man

his eccentricities

and knowledge are at time essential

at times tied to other times 

at times they are timeless

---------

role up your handle

Here is the cast away milk shoe

I see the leaves turning inside out

the old turning new

The runaway juggernauts

and the holy few

trying to make love

as old friends do

------

 

The Soul chooses the planet

The soul chooses the parents, because the soul likes those people

the soul chooses the profession, because it loves to do what it does

the soul wants to travel

the soul chooses the country

do not get confused

there is no need to war

we're just passing through

life's open door

----------

 

 

 

Great artists do not

 

I believe

That not to turn from what you know

Not to run where you can walk

Not to take timid steps up the the stairs

Not to lick the banisters clear of all the remnants of dirt

Not to instigate crimes blindfolded

Not to take your foot out of a basin of untrained lobsters

not to bow lower when another is kissing the ground in your honour

 

The creative man has visions blind folded

and forgets himself

and let's the spirit guide

that's why he is not an egotistical man, 

he is not a man undone

unborn 

he's persistently brewing

Stirring the pot

for others to chew on

 

spewing and sticking at corners

with faltering teeth at times

great grimaces

of ogres and obese geese 

and what wondrous egos people have

 

 

for laymen, work men, lawyers, commerce men, boat traders, fishermen, advertisers, pirates! rock and rollers, hip hoppers and be poppers, prostitutes and pagans, priests and firemen, musicians and gentiles, dark rimmed stressed out office boy, with coffee rings round your eyes, dukes and nobles,  before you launch yourselves in to your professions

 

 

and see wonder with waste and spits on intellectual brothers 

who stifle and sniffle their own townhouse, and look again in the books of others 

and in turn make new mothers of themselves

and disturb no one

 

'good literature disturbs as bad literature is disturbed'

 

 

History will not be friendly to the fading formats

though under stream always to come up again

 

How many kings have you seen

tug at the thugs

pull hair from bald heads

and gold drawers

driven untouched

rebuttal the blues

beg for fever

deliver

unstrained 

docked the time down

Lingering on the insides

strike the gift wrapper!

Save me! Not another songwriter!

Not another kid on the corner, 

Muttering to mother

and everyone around him lifts their eye lids in their own way, and pursue their thoughts and ideals

and give way to their games

not that it hasn't been said before

or spoke about or that the grief in gift giving hasn't been unwrapped 

 

Great artists do not ignore the artists of the past but swallow them whole

 

I Start Fires to Set Flames Free

Fast blaze

in response to stravinsky

burning eyes-and catatonic concentration

should have seen him silver

Strike match fire book

breathed in one black totem

Ego envelopes 

Rip the scrotum convert mosques to many magic hands

driven from disdain

and the dominating force in love is sometimes pain

Blue eye and black eye, across cities written

noticing repulsion in stream dancer

 

I and I

am no different from you

That which I can control I will too

no wanna see airs with their black eyes blue

So strap young man, you blister foot, bad, you tender foot, you claw hook foot

gone bleeding foot, gone blasted, casted, harassed hob nail boot

I and I 

take care of me and I and there. Bandage-life for myself I'm wanting

catatonic concentration on liberation and the actions of relay stations.

Again, concentration

I and I 

like hand hob nail-calm chain mail, and knights of long life in the egosphere

I black eye tend black I

You black eye I and I 

Right or wrong, go fight a fight

no difference 

makes us fall apart

I tend for you 

I tend for me

I fires start to set flames free

 

Christmas in Baghdad, Celebrations in New York

I have notes on this life

about how to try to be right

I have cards that do tricks 

to hide away from things

 

But I can just about shred em

for anytime I try 

I can't say why

Because plans are the first way to tell a lie

 

I walked out my room through 

the drapes and sawdust floors

I took a ghost by his scruff and kicked him out the door

I ordered a new butler since the old one passed away

He seemed to have found out in time that nothing comes to stay

 

Same with me, I figured fine

I'll wander in to town

it'll be a long long time

til you see me around

 

There'd been a coarse discussion 

in the coach on the way there

I'd been tied up with a greek duchess with italian hair

I tried to unlace her dress, though her husband weren't impressed

She said don't worry about my man, he works too hard he's stressed

 

I looked out on to the fields of harvest men and sheep

saw the sharp sun cut the tree to shadows oozing in the street

I smiled for a second looking up at windows in the sky

I thought if that's illumination, there's no need to even try

 

We arrived at the gatling gates 

on a blue door was a sign:

only jews and arabs please

the christians have no time

 

Well that's ok I stood to say:

'we're all religious folk, we've got a 

pagan, a naked quaker and our horsemen all have cults'

 

He shoved us in and cursed our sins

said 'salvations round the bend'

here's a road map kids I'm sorry that I botched your plans

 

He led us through the empty streets

no people to be seen

'good god' thought kid he seemed to say they've found a way to live!

 

 

there's a building being raised and a rally in the maze

there's meaning in the chalk board and words in what they say

 

I walked down in to Time's square

to hear the fire brigade

singing songs about the dead

and to god they spoke their praise 

 

I saw their eyes

and hands in hand

hats held from open minds

it's a wonderful thing to do 

to celebrate the dying 

 

well your senators have tears of joy

across the ocean tear gas toys 

are given to the children for a future in remission

 

It's a mission fishing for the hook

to hang the thieves and cardboard crooks

fire cracker christmas shook

the trees and all the presents