Table of Contents


The Earth-Bound Body

Ascending up

Is a story of the lost 

On a barren mountain side;

Compassless

And in the void of dark.

Incorruptible body is form.

Can the Son be distinct

From the formless

And be God?

Can his arm reach

Into a cupboard In Beijing

While his foot is massaged

In New Orleans?

New birth

Is a blood bath

And tiny screams

Are culled

From the finite surprise

Of material realness

And stainless steel tables.

Only in City Unactuality

Can I be shod

With anti-gravity sandals

To commence a flight

To my darling planet.

The abstract hymen,

Acting as the velvet rope

To all mass particles

Seeking asylum from space-time

Will allow my infinite cock 

To penetrate

And make fertile 

The potentials of the Undefined.

The machinations

And social engineering

That bind minds

To a bio-genetic co2 generator

Can now be allowed

To fall to the wayside. 

Brethren and sisteren find the guard asleep,

Pull the heavy skeleton key

Loose from its ring 

And make like the Jews

Celebrating a new Feast of Lots.

The Telling Of A Lie

Living in the atmosphere

Of magic possibilities,

Roots grasp at new soil.

Seen now: 

Little flowers of happiness

Between sand and stone,

Bartering the solid earth

For the water.

Lightly rocked by the winds of fate,

I escape the clogs of convention

With wings of youth and poetry

While being kept quiet 

With praises and chocolate.

From green and leafy shadows;

Dissolved in the intoxication of festivity,

Hope was created

For revelation

And God's nearness,

Making rents in reality's disguise.

At the last turn

Of the Labyrinth of Chaos

There arose a fleeting foam

Over a sea of suffering;

A violent and ill-fated

Abortion of the Primal Mother.

She dressed herself

With artificial flowers

Of wire and glass;

Zealously piling on lie upon lie...

The Valley Before the Mountain

Buddha looked down

From a 333rd Buddhaland cloud

To catch up 

On the theatrical show news.

The finite mini-gods,

In their staked

Spacetime land claims,

Finding and losing love 

Millions of times a day,

Had an unusual aura of sulleness;

Pulpable grief

Pouring up from the earth.

The link in the causal chain

Has finally been met,

The one that has egos

Permanently bewitched 

By the image

In Narcissis's mesmerizing Pool.

After today, 

They no longer gave respect 

To their Origin;

Instead, making fables 

So as to make life

One no longer needing explanations

For mind nor emotion.

No longer agents of will;

Now puppets of meat 

In prisons of determination;

Rejecting now eternal birthrights, 

As fables of superstition

And foolish naivety.

Gone was intuition,

A gift used to raise suspicion 

When mischief appeared 

To cause havok and turmoil,

Or to rain on their joyfilled parades.

Knowing was taboo,

Non-chemical-caused love, too.

Size took off its relative nature

To cast the spell of Insignificance.

So tiny they now were

That the blood was drained 

From all of life's gleanings,

Making stones and trees 

Surpass, in value, 

The ones who dressed them

With names and their meanings.

Journey's path now crosses

Devestation Pass, 

Where the shroud of darkness

Takes siege

And the Player feels full

The terrible effects

Of a lost soul's state.

Phase of the New Moon

And days of sourceless joy,

The light given off 

Now, mere shadows cast,

As forewarned in Holy Writ;

"If thy light within thee be darkness, 

How great is that darkness!"

Enough was enough, 

This sorry sight, 

Though He tried with great might,

Could no longer bear it.

Most Beneficient Buddha,

Planted a seed 

In a hand-picked womb

Of a chosen vessel,

Impregnating their world 

With Divine invigoration,

Holy breath twisting

The lattice loose,

The ego's unconscious invention.

A trap they set,

The same trap that snared them,

While being drunk 

With the waters of apathy.

This moon child alone,

Was keeper of moon's phases;

The one to come,

With solitary goal

To make the moon full again; 

Unfailing promise's sigil;

To restore the loved earth

Right again;

Faithful to Source's plans

From the Mind without limit.

Divine Love and Wisdom 

Demands this creation order willed.


The Worthy Journey

Stained in indigo,

We headily tromp true north;

Light snacks

And a freon thermus

Keep needs occupied,

Making the ascension,

The astatic, 

The erratic,

White-knuckling the rusty bars

For fear of the swallowing gyre.

Ruby noses peak through boughs

Of the evergreens,

Keen to forecast

Their maledict purview

On the crew.

Blinders were provided 

So as to keep the eyes on the prize:

Ego,

With a heavy thud

To its backside,

Is sprawled 

With tangled intangible limbs, 

And prey to the mawing jaws 

Of the Limelight.