2.
building
sand castles
from wet, compacted sand
children
playing upon the beach
whiling away the hours
upon the edge of the rolling waves
unheeding of the passing sun
unmindful of the changing tides
sandy bulwarks
built against the salty water
ramparts standing against
the ravages of time
until the waves
come slowly, gently rolling in
melting away the dream
leveling the sand of the castle
once again
3.
my joys
my sadness
coming and going
ebbing and flowing
with the passing days
and countless nights
my moods
and my many memories
secret tear drops
silent sorrows
so many mixed up moments
so many forgotten dreams
vanishing forever
through my fingers
hopeful dream child
hapless dream wanderer
a new life for old
a new birth
for an old death
yet another round
4.
we've become
two lost and lonely children
together
in one another's arms
kindred spirits
with misbegotten pasts
playing
in the privacy of our souls
no longer separate entities
tied together
as if we were one
hiding
together
in our long lived
infancy
from the cruelnes
and the cold
of the world
seeking refuge
in our mutual
warmth
5
just a humble poet
no longer with any grand design
modest visions and a common voice
simple verse without rhyme
hoping to paint with words
a simple picture
with only silent eloquence
and the tranquility
of an untouched
nature
a stream,
beside a shady tree
a dusty pathway through
a field of green
a broken cup
of common clay
baking beneath
the same bright sun
as yesterday
floats further and further away
and a dark forest of tall trees stand
at the edge of the distant horizon
and the deep ocean waves
just beyond
encompassing the entire earth
just beyond
the blueness of the still skies
without a cloud
without a sound
but the feint washing
and clapping of the waves
6.
immense sea
of flowing green grass
blowing waves in the breeze
benath a bright blue sky
with brilliant billowy white clouds
floating, drifting in a boundless expanse
wind waves rippling infinitely
spreading forever away
toward the horizon
there in the middle
a lonely island
of a sturdy old tree
knarled limbs twisint
heavenward
reaching upward
against the winds
casting a long shadow
here is a small
barren spot of earth
a furrow of brown mud
across a field of flowers
like a huge soft bed
to lay down upon
to sleep in the lap
of the mighty earth
7.
no longer expecting too much
from someone without a lot to give
you do not support me
morally
you do not facilitate
anything in my life
at least do not hinder me
nor resist my modest
meager destiny
laugh at all these silly things I do
wasting away so much of my time
mock me
call me a fool
never take me seriously
nothing I say can be true
but then just leave me alone
go your own way
go away
and never
return
8.
dream child
haunting my waking moments
skin so soft and smoth
yet unblemished
by the scars of time
or the wrinkles of age
hovering upon the edge of my world
taunting me with childish uncertainty
dream child
too good to be true
possessing my simple soul
tormenting my sleeping spirit
always beckoning from beyond
tomorrow
9.
I walk along the edge
of the shadow of existence
I stalk the twilight
of the skyline of living
I hurry through the day
and wait through the night
too frightened to look back
too anxious to look forward
10.
barriers and barricades
high walls and locked doors
routines and regimens
forms and rationalizations
designed and determined
to block out the truth
to creat the deception
of Reality
in the Name of the Truth
Rules, schedules and deadlines
Stern glances, serious grimaces
Masks of authority
Games of conformity
The editor's red line
The marginal remark
the final bottom line
Gateways and passages
Strategic silences and
Screens of opportunity and systematic neglect
polite gestures of benevolent will
empty smiles, empty words, empty hands
tests, examinations, quotas and curves
proofs and performances
perfection and failure
in the Name of Truth
the disguise of reality
the veil of Maya
11.
so many colorful big fish
in such a tiny round fish bowl
it's a wonder how on earth
they all manage together
to continue surviving
at such close quarters
it's amazing to watch them swimming around
jostling one another for position
with nowhere real to go
struggling with one another
for a little more space
how happy to be outside
that little glass bowl
to be able to breath
fresh air
How content to be
On the outside looking in
instead of on the inside
looking out
12.
big king of the mountain
defending his keep
keeping his castle
from all his cousins
from all his brethern
from all his children
from all his peasants
sitting all alone
up in his solitary tower
looking down upon all
the little people below
taking council with his advisors
maintaining a tight-fisted order
in his small kingdom
doning royal raiment
putting on pretentious airs
fooling all his apparent heirs
13.
It's a white world
a comfortable, clean, wealthy place
warm inside, cold without
everything has its appointed place
everything is supposed to happen
in its rational order
nothing exists without its reason
nothing alien is allowed to enter
without its preliminary sterilization
only waste is allowed to leave
after its proper treatment
it's a scientific reality
a mechanical time-piece
a classic constrution
operating with perfect precision
well sealed containers
preserve the dead forever
a laboratory with the strictest controls
an experiment with the highest of standards
a measurement with the finest increments
leaving nothing to chance
containing nothing unnecessary
a reality without
imagination
or fantasy
14.
like a duck
swimming in the rain
content to navigate
it's little pond
water just flowing off
its curved back
until the sun shines
again
15.
small games
of give and take
of life and death
trivial little games
played with such serious emotion
life's only a game
with a small part to play
it's not so important
to win or lose
but only to remember
how important it is
just to be able
to play the game
16.
your turn
then mine
give a little
take a little
small talk
about little things
trying to make
something happen
constructing truth
together
17.
middle ground of meaning
making the critical difference
between imagination and rationality
between fantasy and substantiality
dwelling upon the edge of reality
living in the extremes
of light and darkness
of sleep and wakefulness
losing the sense of balance
leaping over the edge
of one side or the other
falling into the abyss
of surreal uncertainty
18.
word games
people player
tongue twister
brain teaser
mental manipulator
mind marionetteer
psycho talker
head tripper
drug taker
so suave a style
so subtle a syllogism
so sophisticated a parlance
so tactful
so practiced
so precocious
so precious
so spell-binding
so convincing
dear lecturer and rhetorician
dear professor and priest
lecturing fool
so dear a person
so untouchable
a character
19.
Brave New Science
enabling us to see
into the future
remaking tomorrow
in the image of today
allowing all our wishes
to eventually come true
in the most modern of senses
cutting the chains
that have imprisoned us
to the treacherous past
liberating us from
the limitations of nature
rebellion against
the tyranny of all the Gods
futuristics and futurology
like some soothesayer's
formula for fate
systems and analysis
meta-physical and meta-magical
super technological
creating new worlds
upon the frontiers of time
destroying old worlds
in its cold wake
20.
please pay
homage to our new religion
the almighty dollar
the religion of money
the altar of gold and silver
making the meaningful difference
the only alternative
course of action
destroy nature utterly
break down the spirit
of human resistance
subjugate the soul
to the dictates
of the system
Money, O' Money
the only guarantor of security
the only promise of power
the only chains
of freedom
21.
I now need to reorganize my life
to let go of some of those things
that've been bothering me interminably
to unload a few meaningless memories
that still plague so many waking moments
I need to rethink the unthinkable
and to reevaluate my point and purpose
I need to come to terms with what I've become
To forgive myself my many past mistakes
to try to make up for all I've now lost
I need to make peace with my tormented past
and to liberte my spirit from the fallacies
of a false and empty ego
to forge ahead again with renewed vigor
I need to reset my compass
and change my direction
to set a new tack
separating the mirage from the mountain
that looms so ominously upon my horizon
22.
it is too late
the flowers of the garden
have all been trampled down
by the angry child
who rages with such wanton malice
not even a frustrated dog
that paws and digs the earth
is so deliberately destructive
now the only thing to do
is to wait until next season
23.
we walk down the dusty path
hand-in-hand
we pick and smell the flowers
all along the way
and we find respite together
from the hot sun
benath this big shady tree
down the road
we come to a parting of our ways
and though some hurt is involved
there is also mutual understanding
there is no turning back
24.
there are a thousand and one Buddhas
of the flames of imagining
and a thousand and one disguises
of the ghosts of remembering
the Buddha present is an eternal being
the Buddha past is a never-ending beginning
the Buddha future is an every-emerging ending
and a thousand and one Buddha ghosts
forever before and always behind
the momentary self forgotten
to suffer a thousand and one small deaths before being born
to experience a thousand and one little births before dying
and, dying, to relive a thousand and one lives
25.
sleeping Buddha
dreaming of Nirvana
by the time you awaken
it will be too late
26.
big little Buddha
playing and laughing
like a baby
refusing to grow up
to become a little big Buddha
playing serious games
like an adult
27.
you lick this hand
this hand pets your back
Malaysian mut
ticks in your ears
sores festering upon your belly
black dog so young and beautiful
this hand releases you
from off that cruel short chain
your entire life spent
in sun and rain
I gave an Ang Pao
of a pound of surgar
to the indifferent
bemused old patriarch
of the Lee Kong Si
I let you run in freedom
you've never known before
only to run wildly in madness
now this hand constrains you
by a short rope
as I carry you to the dog-shooter
this hand softly strokes the soft fur
of the rigid flank
head wrapped in bloody newspapers
your eyes saw through my soul
and it rained real hard that day
in a final gesture of good-bye
the Gods were watching
nobody wanted you
but silly me
28.
old gray haired Indian man dancing wildly
in the crowded street
to a rock and roll song
only he can hear
barefoot, bare backed black skin
in shrunken, tattered blue jeans
passers by look on and joke and point and alugh
at the oblivious old fool
the young whie male anthropologist
cam corder slung on one shoulder
and lap-computer hanging from the other
hedges in for a closer observation
in the process impolitely bumping
the bystanding gawkers
and the would-be hawkers
"I'm sorry....please excuse me."
he utters with serious sincerity
too polite to answer
the lookers on just nod
thinking to themselves
whispering among themselves
"isn't he a selfish fool..."
"yes, but he can't help it,
he's an American...
and he must be rich!"
29.
looking for the buddha
in little, out of the way corners
looking for peace
in dark, unseen places
looking for solitude
in lonely, forgotten spaces
shutting out the everyday hubbub
behind closed eyes
behind closed doors
finding the little buddha
the thousand and one small buddhas
in the privacy of one's own thoughts
in the tranquility of one's own private spaces
30.
casting stones
down into the well of darkness
listening to the sounds
bouncing against the walls
fathoming its depths
searching for a bottom
a final splash
and ultimate silence
echoes diminishing
in the distance
31.
the way is silent
it is soft and subtle
it moves strangely unseen
always indirect
it speaks humbly
and walks meekly
it sleeps deeply
and rises slowly
the way does not have a way
without a door
without a window
leading through the darkest
tallest forest
across the widest, driest desert
over the highest, steepest mountains
its route is difficult
yet so easy
it knows no boundaries
skirts all fences
surmounts all barriers
the way is ever sincere
always honest
it always leads home
always back to bed
32.
buffalo boy
languishing away
the endless day
above the earth
riding above the mud
on the back of buddha's
beast of burden
carefree life
free from responsibility
full of fun and play
in a land of boredom
buddha boy
when will you grow up
and learn to behave
like a true working man
33.
words
nothing but words
only, merely, simply just words
plain and simple
fancy and sophisticated
meaning lost
in the recesses of silence
fading into the echoes
of consciousness
vanishing forever into the finity
of the horizon of the past
words that carry so much weight
spoken with the appropriate voice
uttered in the proper presence
hanging in the air
with the status of authority
word wizardry
a sophists delight
a critics cup of tea
twisting the truth
around the tongue
and turning reality
into a mad delusion
words that confuse the mind
that mock the spirit
and torment the soul
striking so deep into the heart
word magic
waving an imaginary wand
making the would-be marionette
into a ventriloquist's dummy
a talking piece of wood
34.
sounding, resounding
resonance, dissonance, consonance
rhythming and rhyming
hooting and howling
of the world
but not in the world
35.
tired of being
just a thorn in your sock
time to let go of me
to put me into the box
and get on with business
no matter how difficult
the road may become
it is just not worth
walking it with thorns
36.
trained to jump through hoops
to jump faster and faster
higher and higher
the hoops keep getting smaller
and smaller
jumping through hoops
becomes old and monotonous
when the game never ends
jumping through hoops
with high hopes
of making it the next time
around and around
a successful hoop jumper
is the best possible thing to be
rounder and rounder
hoops big and small
oval and circular
even square ones
and triangular
37.
buddha boy
ephemeral entity
vanishing presence
diminishing existence
hungry beast
unsated lust
quenching its thirst
in the well of life
suffering soul
in the shadow of the corpse
shackled spirit
in a new suit of clothes
no amount of starch
can unwrinkle
38.
the ground gives way beneath one's feet
and suddenly one is falling
endlessly through emptiness
falling through silence
through a void without feeling
without a bottom
and suddenly one is floating
floating through an ethereal medium
without a direction and without resistance
and then one is suddenly flying
flying higher and higher
magically lifting by one's feet
spreading one's arms out across the vast spaces
soaring above all clouds
in the heavens
and then one is suddenly falling again
faster and faster
without any footing
until suddenly
the bottom
the end
39.
a train whistle
off in the distance
rising strongly
above the den of the traffic
upon the street down below
the train blowing its horn
coming from somehwere far off
going somewhere
straight away winding
bending
between traffic signals
deafening
shaking
the sound of the tracks
rolling along the earth
40.
sun beaming through the glass
refracting through the wire mesh
filtering through the curtain
falling in spots and splashes
upon my sunken shoulder
soothing and warming my sad spirit
slumbering in this comfortable chair
outside the shadows of the tree limbs
and the rustling leaves and twigs
beyond the blue sky
and the bright, blinding sun
41.
seeing clearly again
the clouds are slowly dissipating away
my vision unencombered by the illusions
of a false and petty ego
of dreams of power and quests for money
the yoke has been broken open
the words flow forth freely again
you say I have failed you
but not you who have failed me
it is a subtle difference
that makes the critical distinction
I suddenly have so many problems
and so many difficulties
How have I suddenly become so wrong
and why are you always so right?
my vision is coming back again
no longer obstructed by others opinions
the bonds that bound my consciousness
to the conformity of the system
are broken free
and you are no longer a part of the picture
42.
ship of love
floating upon a troubled sea
hull made up of human bonds
caulked with spiritual essence
making it watertight
sea-worthy ark
keeping us from drowning
saving our souls
from a watery fate
43.
murder the spirit
so the body can be reborn
and continue to live on
destroy the body
so the spirit may be free
to survive even death
the wheel of samsara
is all encompassing
existence is a divine tragedy
without a real ending
everyday is a cycle
of many rebirths
every night
an unbroken chain
of recurring deaths
the only salvation
from the suffering soul
is to create false hopes
and blind faith
in emptiness
44.
living the modern lie
the grand circle of deceit
from which there is no escape
truth is a relative fiction
enacted in the moment
honesty is a veil of self-illusion
and trust an adulturated affair
to live the modern myth of meaning
is to attach oneself to material things
and to make a religion of money
whose honest in what situation
whose voice in whichever position
to live in the modern world
is to enliven the lie
a half-truth
a mixed metaphore
a self contradiction
sincerity is a bastard
trust is a bitch
and love
only a minor
inconvenience
45.
the poetic act
of giving birth
like taking a shit
with verbose verbiage
and loquacious garbage
the words come out one after the other
and then flow like diarrhea
the consciousness of the poet
is an esctatic state of release
into a word world of fanciful freedom
and bitter sweetness
the sky's the limit
in its deepest blue
and the moon's big orb
smiles in the mid-morning dew
seagulls flying in-land
just beneath grey clouds
46.
I build a wall of silence around you
to protect you from my anger
inside this fortress you can rebuild
your broken and tattered ego
in there you can safely redefine
my identity to suit your needs
for security and reassurance
this wall of silence will prevent
unnecessary harm from befalling you
47.
everyday shoes
and everyday clothes
everyday people
in everyday roles
once in a while
an unusual sort
comes along
in an odd sort of way
mixing things up
making them a little more interesting
then putting them back in order
for the next person to come along
48.
theories that won't fill a thimble full
egos that fill an entire classroom to overload
and spill out resoundingly in the halllways
notes that fill reams of wasted notebook paper
copies that fill file folders
filling full file-holders and then
filling steel cabinets and entire walls
desks that fill the breath of a single room
with but a single little scrawny body
a sordid sort of petty emptiness
filling everybodies' lives
49.
mouths gaping wide open
lips and tongues twisting round about
brilliance articulated in long
measured passages of air
authority voiced with well-chosen words
coordinated by a well paid brain
hidden within a fat head
and a false face
50.
Buddha does not dwell here
where consciousness has forgotten itself
Buddha has taken flight
from the day-to-day battles
seeking refuge and sanctuary
from a public ceremonial sacrifice
paradise dwelling in the eye of the storm
swirling round about in relentless fury
paradise is a secret hideaway
a journey over the mountains
far away through the thickets of the woods
buddha dwells there in darkness and in light
It dwells there in harmony and concord
When the winds blow whereever they will
and the water will flow slowly and silently
in the depths of the pools of reflection
51.
a new world begins
just beyond the a life merely existent
an old world ends
at twelve o'clock midnight
we keep going forward
whatever the total cost
we can't afford to look backward
at all the things lost
people still change
and so do their words
take my hand once again
how to define our world
cling tightly to my side
over the edge we step again
bound for another ride
into the shadow of the unknown
there to find our fate
there to seek our fortune
52.
minute by minute
hour by hour
day by day
week by week
month by month
year by year
we ar e born
we breath
we eat
and procreate
and then we die
the clock keeps ticking on
the sun always returns on schedule
followed by the moon
and the seasons pass by slowly
in endless succession
53.
too busy to be bothered
high pressure life-style
high status image control
high stakes impression management
your time is so precioius
to be preoccupied with petty problems
to be perturbed by humble people
impatiently glancing askance
sorry so to disturb you so
did not want to bother you
can you please, please spaire me a brief moment or two
can you proffer yur important guidance
your superior enlightenment
and help me to sort out
this entangled mess
54.
the sun shines so brightly
cracking the dried clay
searing the desert sands
its shines through the tropical haze
and glints and glares
from off the ocean waves
it shines throughout our lives
and throughout human history
it shines beyond time
mercifully giving life
mercilessly taking life
relentlessly it shines
from day to day to day
upon our backs, upon our necks
and upon our hands
it burns upon our faces
and upon our minds
and upon our brains
unerasable brands
unforgettable
longings
55.
corridor congresses
secret meetings in empty rooms
whispered conversations in vacant lecture halls
messages flash through the atmosphere
striking like lightening
rolling through the hallways
like distant thunder
cutting like a razor
the dense, kinetic air
56.
I played with fire
and got burned a little
I toyed with power
and became defeated
I lost the game
knowing better how to play
at the end of yet another day
in the process relearning
some lessons long forgotten
how to carry oneself with grace
how to talk and act with dignity
and still be humble
how to laugh at jokes
and how to let silence
be one's final voice
but in getting singed a littled
I have discovered a little more
and once discovered
there can be no taking it back
to how things used to be
57.
redefining the problem out of existence
is a common concern of criminals and academicians
it requires certain skills of body control
and absolute mastery over one's terminology
else a single slip of the tongue would soon destroy
the entire edifice of organizational expertise
years in the planning and developing
exposing the nakedness of the ugly truth
disguised just beneath the covered surface
it is hard work to confect the image of reality
and to construct the semblance of rationality
there is no place for play in the process
except to poke fun and destroy the entire bubble
58.
it is difficult to be a child
in an adult-like world
it is difficult to grow up uncomfortably
for always being reprimanded
for not behaving like an adult
being a child means its alright
to make mistakes
it is difficult to learn
the rules and lessons of life
while remaining a child inside
when making mistakes has more serious consequences
when breaking rules becomes unforgiveable
how can we teach children to become adults
and adults to remain like children
whitout confusing the two roles?
how can we learn to be one
while being also the other?
what looks easy proves
the most difficult of all
what seems difficult
is the easiest of all
growing up is never easy
being a child is never difficult
don't be afraid to make mistakes
never fail to forgive transgressions
and always keep the patience and persistence
to perservere in one's ways
59.
saying good-bye once again
to a new found friend
moving on again
to some place better
the endof the rainbow
is always over the next hill
and around the next bend
in the long road
our directions now separate
knowing well they will eventually end
but never cross each other again
saying good-bye
with tears
but without regret
60.
billions of buddha beginnings
new tiny little buddha beings
each in need of nurturance
each in quest of enlightenment
an infinitude of seeds
of buddha possibilities
sprouting upon the shores of nature
all seeking salvation and atonment
all needing enough food
to feed and breed
to grow and multiply
61.
bouncing buddha
upon my knee
like a little ball
of happiness
swinging buddha in the air
careful not to let go
laughing with glee
like a child
silly little buddha
drooling all over
the whole world is new
and innocent and interesting
once again
62.
things have suddenly changed
throwing life helter-skelter
the ground has given way again
and the light shinning upon the horizon
has suddenly blinked out
new found silence and enmity surrounds
our private little world
taking spiritual refuge fro the viciousness
licking our mortal wounds
in the shadows of our existence
no longer making much sense
standing out upon the edge
the cold winds striking agiainst our faces
the waves rising and through seas in turmoil
this storm shall pass soon
and calmer seas soon return
the comfortable world as we knew it
shall be all destroyed
and a new world shall be built
from all the splintered pieces
63.
Spending the day
measuring the ground swells
of mother earth
the little dragon inside
slumblers and roots
moving around and around
making a mountain out of a mole hill
geomancers we've both become
waiting and watching for signs of life
just beneath the surface
expectantly waiting the magic stream of life
to come flowing forth
from the bowels of the magic mountain
64.
Snowing silences
drifting upon the breezes
white whispering winds
quiet cold
peaceful white
winter tranquility
a sleepy world
covered by a blanket
of pure white snow
snowflakes whirling and twirling about
drifting in flurries
like ghosts blowing across the land
ice crystals forming
uon the cold window panes
Indian Summer has suddenly flown
Old man Winter has come again
65.
futon fantasy
pillow potato
bedside magic
dreamtime
alife, awake
soft comfort
worries of the day
dispelled
66.
country kid, city child
growing up in nature
raised without culture
coming up wild
maturing in an uncivilized manner
swimming, running, climbing, fishing
television, toys, preschool and playgrounds
fenced in like animals
from the outside world
locked out like animals
from the comfortable inside world
67.
jelly fish
you lack a spine
but are full of venom
soft to the touch
so painful to feel
your tentacles stretch far
unseen beneath the gray cold surface
waiting for the unwary victim
to swim across your path
68.
The whole day passing
through my Venetian blinds
the shadows creep across the room
the twisting branches of the tree outside
like whithered hands stretchings out
across the countryside
the whole day spent in darkness
and in quietude
the twilight grey forming the permanent ground
consciousness lurking silently within
another day gone by
without a reason
without a rhyme
one more day lost
between the lines
missing from the calendar
fallen off the end
69.
fog bound
clear vision
obscured by the mists
light of the day
all blocked out
fuzzy forms drifting slowly
sounds silently muffled
in the heavy spaces
empty echoes hanging
in the still, thick air
the air so thick
one swims to keep from drowning
sucking up higher and higher
with one's nose to the air
swept up by a flood of frenzied consciousness
so thick one see's one's echoes
like shadows
bouncing from off
the corridor walls
70.
zombie
stalking the corridors
to latch on to any victim
the eat any bit of human flesh
zombies
walking in blindness
bumping off one another's sides
hands reaching out in unsated desire
zombies
one and all
your cadaverous bodies
all lack the soulful substance
that would make you a genuine human being
zombies
instead of people
muttering sounds of half-consciousness
drowning out noises of pain and pleasure
zombies
hiding from the light
dwelling only in the darkest places
of the late moonless night of the world
71.
walking faster and faster
to keep from falling further behind
running ahead harder and harder
just to remain in one's alotted place
hours of busy'ness and busy body hours
counting aways the minutes hurriedly
with the only vital pay some smug satisfaction
and more credits for heaven
paying heed to the dictum
of criticize or become criticized
upaid labor units
lost pouring through reams of books
pounding upon broken down typewriters
trying to learn how to be so perfect
forgetting in the process
how just to be human
72.
hard and soft
yin and yang
working in tandem
together as one
soften them up
then work them over
like the sun and the moon
once, twice, thrice
back and forth
weaving the tapestry
enwrapping all
in a web of meaning
of birth and death
living and dying
73.
Dao dwells in this vase
of plain design and common clay
inside its empty form
filling it like water
yet without any essence
There is the center of the universe
within that hollow vessel
the gateweay to the other world
containing the omnipotence of being
like a jinnie in a jar
protecting its master's desire
possessing its owner's spirit
there within that fragile
turned lump of fired clay
When words occupy space
displacing the air
and ideas have great mass
thoughts precipitate,
striking the ground like hail-stones
and ideas gain great mass
from the weight of their momentum
dead concepts fall with great force
drawn by the gravity of the earth
to shatter against the ground
when deep thoughs become spoken utterances
and theories like broken concretions
just so much rubble on the ground
flakes spinning off the grinding wheel
crushed beneath the great turning stone
sounds fill the air like a cloud of dust
meaning hovers in the atmosphere
with grand momentousness
sounds echoiing through the halls of consciousness
awakened and elevated to possible new realities
when mental images assume the shape of material things
when confusion becomes crystal clear vision
and imagination a flight of wanton fantasy
when reality becomes rationalization
of formal systems
then people no longer count but as bodies
existing to be counted
then souls become imprisoned by the flesh
and spirits locked up in black boxes
buried beneath the layers of false consciousness
and dirty guilt
fear is the master
cowardice is the common characteristic
courage the ultimate traitor
75.
Do you know the way?
If you do or don't
Then it is not the right way
Nor is it the wrong way
It is the way that is unknown
One must keep asking along the way
And never stop to figure out
The direction of the sun's shadows
Or the correct time of the day
The way is only learned
By traveling along its course
It is never ending
And has no beginning
It is a labyrinth of crossing
It is a forest of confusion
Without entrance
And without any exit
The way is always in a circle
And this circle gets larger and smaller
With the creeping of the shadows of the trees
It turns into a cycle of time
That has no clock
And there is no place in the universe
No spot on the earth
That the way does not pass through
It leads everywhere
But goes nowhere
Eldorado at its end
is but the emptiness
of its existence
nothing more
76.
spritely stepping
across a flat field
upon a smooth sea of green
violet and blue wild flowers
dotting the carpet of grass
cars and people
in the adjacent parking lot
pay no heed
as they tramp across
in the morning cold
77.
Lotus lost
in a sea of dandelions
I've set you adrift
upon a foreign element
the winds blow this way and that
without care or concern
whether it rans or shines
tomorrow will come
another lonely day
lotus blossoming
its beauty lost
in loneliness
78.
the window to the netherworld
sits silently in my attic
the gateway to hell
cold and dusty
motionless and silent
in a corner of my attic
waiting to be opened up
just go on upstairs
put in the plug
turn the knob
and watch the screen light up
enter through the gate
look through the window
79.
maps and mazes
games and rules
mental midgets and intellectual mediocrity
mind-games and mind management
mental marionettes and military mentalities
maintaining complete control
manipulating the words
masterful magicians
creating worlds of illusion
floating upon emptiness
suffocating the imagination
snatching the sould away
strangling the spirit to death
no room to breath freely
no space to move one's muscles
the primal scream resounds off barren walls
echoing down empty, frozen halls
fading off into the silence
of the maddening
impersonal system
maps and mazes
games and rules
80.
Dictators
in a paper world
playing make-believe roles
murdering straw enemies
symbolically persecuting fake criminals
persecuting the imagination
destroying freedom
81.
exchanging freedom for wisdom
exchanging potential for power
exchanging innocence for responsibility
there is no returning
there is no going back
there is no reversing
each step one further down the road
another distance gained
another moment of freedom lost
one more opportunity diminished
move onward we must
not ever knowing
What awaits us ahead
never really knowing for certai
whether we have taken the right direction
every new intersection
another big risk
another possible gain
another possible loss
82.
faded flower
ephemeral freshness
lingering beauty
nature does not feel
the fleeting innocence
nature does not see
the scars remaining
the lengthening lines
nature does not love
and cannot care
the surface wearing away
eroded by forces
it cannot understand
the dignity and humility
of growing older
gracefully
83.
when I was a kid
I had a dog
and I had cats
I had birds and fish
I collected insects
and hunted frogs, lizards and snakes
I had trees to climb
and forests to explore
caves to hide in
nature was in my back yard
I swam in ditches, canals, reservoirs, sloughs, pools
oceans, lakes, streams and rivers
I had gardens to hoe and wood piles to climb
I built mud huts and dug underground forts
I had shoe boxes full of broken clocks and radios
now my little child
we cannot have pets in our apartment
bows and arrows or slingshots would break the many windows
we have no yard to make a garden in
we live upon main street
it would be hard to find many creepy crawly things
there is no water to swim in
no more mude to make huts and mounds and pies
no fresh ploughed dirt clods to crumble and throw
there is only concrete, plastic, and asphalt
and the rubber tires of screeching cars
I'm afraid I cannot give you
all those many little things
that I took so for granted when I was young
you will never learn how to love a dog or cat
how to feed a bird or hold a snake
you will never watch radishes sprout or see tomatoes ripen
you will never learn how not to scrap your knees on rocks
or how to paly in open fields of mustard
or how to avoid the barnacles on the breakwater
or how to stalk through groves of eucalyptus or pine
still, your world is much better than mine
84.
be patient
my little one
don't be in too big a hurry
to grow up too soon
as I had done
wasting a few precious years
of play
enjoy your childhood
while you can
don't allow the adult world
to overshadow
your joys and fears and fantasy
to cloud out your morning sunshine
do not grow up too soon
to try to take upon your little shoulders
too many adult-like responsibilities
it is a tragedy to lose one's youth
before its time
to lose those years of childish play
and then to spend the rest of one's life
trying to learn how to be a child again
how to play again
be patient
and happy
as you are
and will become
85.
Another calendar to put away
a new calendar to be bought
another stack of books to shelve away
another set of courses to be forgot
another school year to look forward to
another summertime to wait through
where do all the moments fly to
where have all my friends gone
where are all those things
that once seemed so important
another day upon another day
in endless repetition
what on earth can be so important
that will not soon become buried
with the sands of time
what can be so permanent
as to outlast time itself
86.
beware of those who have no poetry
be cautious of their vile words
who neither read nor write a simple poem
these are the dangerous ones
the one's whose souls are imprisoned
within the confines of their vulgar bodies
these are the one's who cannot appreciate
genuine beauty in passing
who do not know how to see
or how to feel another human being
87.
I'm tired of entertaining fair weather friends
and smiling at plastic masks
disguising human emptiness
I've grown weary of worrying about their smooth
and fast words
and figuring out the subtle indirections
of their poisonous indiscretions
I'm disillusioned with humanity
straight and simply put
I'm disgusted with human authority
and false idolatry
I'm sickened with human weakness and suffering
by the many at the hands of the few
88.
building walls
of golden bricks
building walls
to keep people out
and to lock up the soul
to protect it from harm
building walls
of golden bricks
molded with the precious clay
of golden time
staying busy to make business
building more walls
needing to protect
a guilty conscience
89.
the whole world
according to Marx
history rewritten
revised
according to Engels
a materialist presupposition
witnessing Marx in everyday life
don't question Marx's maxims
the soothsayer speaks her pointed tongue
Marx's magical medium
materializing his spirit
idolizing his name
Marx on the tip of every pseudo-intelllectual tongue
Marx on the margin of every weak marionette mind
the answer to all the world's problems
the new religion of science
90.
another baby
yet another buddha being
among a billion and one new buddha babies
what will be your kharma?
and waht will be your dharma?
and who shall save you
from the wheel of suffering
that afflicts most of the world
what shall become your fate
what is the position of your stars?
91.
I wish this crazy world
I'll be leaving you in
were a little bit better
than the one I was left with
I wish justice and equality
would finally carry the day
like I was told when I was young
a less I have found difficult to unlearn
in a cruel and cold world
life begins and ends
with the beating of the human heart
that gives and receives
compassion and understanding
that eschews hate and avarice
bigotry, envy and hypocrisy
92.
finding peace of mind
upon my corner of the futon
finding spiritual consolation
in a morning cup of coffeee
seeking tranquility of being
in the corridors of conscioiusness
searching for spiritual freedom
between the lines of literary bondage
finding hard meaning
beneath a soft pillow
finding big reasons
in small things saved
and shared
93.
a thousand and one buddha babies
baby buddhas laughing and crying
burping and messing up their diapers
embodying future hopes and past purposes
embibing the milk of human kindness
through nipples and bottles
94.
baby beluga
swimming about your little world
we hear you with our eyes
we see you with our ears
baby beluga
the beginning of a new being
swimming around in a small
enclosed sea
95.
IBM time
your time, my time
hung on every wall
motionless hands of mastery
secret symbols of mystery
company time, borrowed time
who owns the time
who controls the clock
computing time, computer time
IBM town, IBM time
96.
little tiny one
little fingers
little hands
tiny toes and feet
where did you come from?
and how did you happen?
where are you in a hurry to?
and what will you become?
97.
feeling like
I've been beaten up
one more time
the door of darkness
swings open
again
with nothing else
to do
but to go forward
into nothingness
once again
now I'm afraid
and more reluctant
than ever before
knowing a little better
what's on the other side
and what isn't
98.
suicide
is an act
of courage
and cowardice
it is a last escape
from responsibility
and a release from suffering
It is a final declaration of independence
and the ultimate expression of dependent regression
it is a long walk off a short pier and a small step off a
high edge
and a dark doorway one cannot wait to open at the end
by itself so selfishly and yet so selflessly
it is a bitter act of final desperation
and dark, defiant consolation
a unasked question mark
an abbreviation
it is all this
not more
nor less
but
99.
buddah body
beast of burden
toiling in the mud
buddha baby
burping and belching
slobbering and balling
over the shoulder
buddha boy
playing with sticks and stones
falling and hurting oneself
crawling and bawling
buddha beast
dumb and silent
ever obdient
under the master's yoke
big buddha
always sleeping
always silent
sitting and smiling
buddha beings
embodied essences
enlivened spirits
reincarnated
buddha ghosts
wandering aimlessly
searching endlessly
for nothingness
buddha essence
waiting patiently
to be realeased
from earth-bound graves
100
a soul for sale
a simple soul for sale
who will buy this soul for servitude
a single, solitary soul
a life for lease
another average life for lease
who will sign a contract
who will place a bid
a will for rent
one more will to rent
who would want this plain old will to work
who needs another worn out old will to work
a spirit to give away
a broken spirit for free
for anyone who would figure out a reason
for anyone who cares to fix it
hands for hire
two empty hands to hire
who needs an extra pair of hands around
who will find a use for these hardened hands
a child for sale
another abandoned child for sale
who will buy my little lost child
who will take away my newborn being
a secret to steal
another secret to share
who would possess the power of this secret
who will steal another small secret