Anything more pathetic than arguing bout love?!!!

You can use all the old Sanskrit words
pull out all the old texts
quote all yer gurus and the masters
but you are wandering around in the desesrt with a broken cup - a cup that once held a few drops of water

You are afraid to let go and fall into the heart
because the miserable asshole that you think you are will drown
"THis is crazy! I need to learn how to swim first! I need to study the words and recipes!" I need to prepare for some furture!"
you are afraid
its ok
I get afraid to
trying to maintain some delicate balance and order
till the master comes in and knocks me from my pedestal with the thoughtless and blissful dancing
"NO!" I scream!
so afraid as I smash into the million pieces that I thought I was -
so happy - such tears as the water that I was holding out all this time comes rushing in
washing the heart clean and new as it was and has always been
namaste
to all
and unless you are singing
Shut THE FUCK UP!
this is a place is for lovers only.

Rabbits

I was happy:) and then I was sad:(
I was being torn apart by the polar opposites of emo and cynism. so I became a absurd lie poking fun at me own heart and of course we all know that hearts don't like jokes. they are always serious and so sad and beautiful with pretty mussed up hair!
so I made fun of everything until nothing real and deep existed. Then I created my own universe to see if anyone or thing could come up with a solution. Of course the sex was pretty hot and the drugs were delicious, but the old age and death still sucked and so did the shallow smooth pretty ego freaks and the wise were all old & wrinkly and the funny were all outta control or scared the normal were still all to drugged or distracted to do anything but bitch!
So I kept coming back to square one, you know the really simple and elagant one that says "WHATS THE FUCKING POINT?!!!"

"Funny you should ask?!!" says a cartoon rabbit, who suddenly appears from nowhere. Hes holding a huge joint in one hand and a even huger gun in the other (.44 magnum, crome with the 12 inch barrel:)
"Whats with the gun?" I nervously venture
"You gotta light?" he purrs as he hands me the gun and I hand him a lighter "Well' he puffs 'Seems like you've read to many damn books and ya got to many answers and other peoples stories in yer head. So I'm here to clear some shit out! Smart guy!"
"Oh yeah?!!!' I say ' Please tell me what is it?"

"I aint here to give you more answers bucko.' he chuckles, 'but I will leave you with this... YOU CAN'T MAKE LOVE AND WRITE A BOOK AT THE SAME TIME!"

"What the hell does that mean? Like I ever tried to..."ITS A METAPHOR DUMB ASS! SUCK ON IT! DON'T THINK! YOU'LL KNOW IT, WHEN YOU ARE IT!"
"Are you gonna talk in caps the whole time?" I smile
"ha-ha. I'm not hear to be your friend, slap-nuts' he says quietly as he hands me the joint. 'AND NOW I WANT YOU TO KILL ME!"
"Who the fuck you talking to?" I say turning in a circle
"YOUR THE ONE WITH A GUN IN YOUR HAND." says the rabbit.
"You gave it to me." I protest "Its your gun." levels the rabbit.
And he's right.
"NOW SHOOT ME!"
"whaaa? why would I? I couldn't."
"Its a dream,Dum-Dum, SHOOT ME!"
So I took a toke and exhaling I squeezed off a round into his pretty blue expectant cartoon eyes. I was suprised at the loud noise and scared when he screamed and cried and died in my arms sobbing. It felt like my heart was breaking - like I was being torn into a million pieces... but then all the pieces turned into real rabbits and hopped away in a million directions.
Then I stand up... and I'm a green field and the dawn is breaking - the birds song and fragrant crisp breeze blows right thru me.

Slaming

I've started doing poetry slams - It seems important to me in some way for me to stand up in front of a bunch of people and try and talk about the shit we never talk about or the shit that we are all too cynical and cool or smart to talk about - you know love and death ect. I've only done a couple and I've gotten my ass kicked!!! I went to some Barnes and Noble to a poetry reading and it was 10 really old people sitting in a circle reading poems - The slam I go to is at a cool ass bar called Dada's you get on a mic in front of the whole bar (30-40 people maybe) and there are speakers for the folks sitting outside - needless to say I was pretty fucking nervous my first time - I guess I gotta memorize and maybe do that slam kinda rhyming rhythm thing - I dunno - I don't just wanna perform - I can do that - shit I've done that my whole life - I would like to do something real - I think maybe I'll do what they do only with my own stuff and then kick thier ass! hahaha then I'll take it apart and explore from there - ala Coltrane
anyway its about as much fun as a 30 something working class stiff can have on a tuesday night - basically its hard and I'm not that good at it - and thats good stuff for me I've found
keep on keeping on people!

Lion of the Heart

Back in the days before spam, I used to send people e-mails from made up personas.
If my persona was a girl, all the boys would reply
with mucho enthuso!
But the girls would always be suspicious,
"WHO ARE YOU?!! - HOW DID YOU GET MY ADDRESS!"
How strange and different it must be to be a woman.

And then when spam started I would reply to the spam, curious as to why I would want horse cock and low finacing and who were they and really who am I? Who are WE? and what does it all mean... ect

but my queries always just got sent back to me unanswered

So of course I grew frustrated and took drugs,
like any quaker would. I began carrying smooth things in my pockets and babblin' reading dictionaries and laughing and laughing.

My friends became worried and somewhat annoyed, but people and experiences I had never known would wander into my play.

A man at ease with chaos and contradictions
is hard to find I guess
but I proved to be unstable
like a drunken little bird
or a crazy person on the street
so much fun for a few minutes
but no one ever took me home

so I just roamed and grew wilder and crazier
like some dandelion comet
like a box of kittens that turn out to be rabid

I wanted everybody to love me
but I also wanted to be worshipped
ask Keourac about how beautifully painful that is
people can only worship dead things
and most are afraid to love something they can't
control

So now I find myself sitting on the porch
and I can smell dinner cooking
I can even see the family through the screen door
but i can't come in
and they can't hear me, even if I did have the guts to scream

but then the gods yawn
and everybodies swallowed whole again
a robot wanders outta the barn
and lights my cigarette
and tells me I should stop carring on so

"its all a play and a gift
so whattya so afraid of?!!! he skreaked

Death?

Only if yer scared ta truly live are ya scared of death
cuz then death comes and you realize you never lived
never spoke your heart
and that hurts - that really fucking hurts"

"So I guess I'm just afraid of looking foolish?!!"
I mutter to no one imparticular
The robot just looks at me and laughs and laughs
till he jangles and stumbles
and all his bolts come loose and he is reduced to nothing but a
pile
of scrap - but then the pile twitters and chirps all
busy and small
and alights into a flock of birds
that flies away singing

and I begin to weep suddenly
till I feel a lion move in my heart
and this resonates through my whole being
until there is a kind of breaking open like the sun
devouring the chill that I thought I was

AHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!

from him to her

just to say something that will resonate
in your heart
of your whole being

so that you will come to know nothing
but this
so you will finally know that you are love
that have always been love
and will always be love

and all the searching and wanting
all the desires
and the longing that is always
here

is in fact
your heart
your heart is singing

I can feel it
deeper than any sound
because it resonates in my heart as well
for they are the same

I can see and feel it rather plainly
as I'm sure some others do

but we all feel so goddamn lost and shy
like we don't fit or belong
so we pretend and try to fit

instead of having the guts
to call out all the bullshit
and openly live

I need you
or more simply
I need your singing heart
it keeps me honest
it gives me the guts

to cut through all the BS
not just the worlds
but yours and mine

so we can meet in this heart
and be destroyed and reborn
again and again
as love

2 old men

2 old men approach each other
in the early morning green

thier tiny dogs
lunging
with teeth bared