Fidgety Gæm :

What is his name?
Ballasts and shame!
Not for you,

Eat from the sipping cup,
Drink from your bowl,
Dress up now and then,
Make things not droll.

Won’t you please,
Accompany me-
Out into the crisp night air,
Perchance for a stroll?

Of grapes,
Of medicated canapés,
WHO knows the lay of the land,
AND that true medicine is from,
MOTHER nature’s;


We play a fidgety gæm,
With the health of our,
Very names,
VITAL frame-
Our health you see,
And education about thee;
Playing with mans,

For you shall in time perhaps learn,
If you’ve the drive towards love enough;

To yearn,
Towards the achievement of every action,
Taken out of nothing but pure love,

You will truly understand,
The universe is nothing and everything,
Upon a grain of glistening beautiful,

-The feelings of knowing what everything,
And knowing nothing is everything,
And everything is nothing,
Cannot be understood,

Will have and will be long since lost,
The typical heart,
IMPRISONED in the mega-frost,

Take your life to a commitment,
Of nothing but existing as pure love,
Then promised to you isn’t,
The winning lotto,

Far better,
For you’ll eventually become,

A Bodhisattva.
And know what it feels like to walk upon the green grasses of heaven,
For it is truly here,
On earth…

P. S- That pearly gates thing is a trans-allegorical-figurative-mythologically based allegory for my words here in this poem,
Speaking to process.

P. P. S-
I love you.

P. P. P. S
All spiritual practices are a path to the same God. It’s actually all the same thing.


“Where To Now?” A beat poem mini-adventure

“Where to now?”

Up, Down,
Left Right!

Fore, aft, side, side, anterior-
Interiors…. Of;

Station Wagons.
Cruising cross country,
ice cream and popsicle scones,
the politicians representing us are,

Of sorts…

The dawning of 2011 was welcome yet rather uneventful, yet ardvarks and antelopes await,

With love in their hearts,
but not in their asses or farts.
Mr. Pop TART!

That circumnavigation of your sphlenum,
split like the coconut milk down the forked trough-

A bough of Sage and Holly,
shall decorate, invigorate;
Banter and no folly!

Good giggity golly—

Polly, Mollie, Wally, or Nelly;
One of you come quickly.

After we get your help,
we shall sit to eat,
laugh and be joyously silly!



a short poem for your enjoyment- typed up originally on an antique smith corona typewriter..

Like a steel fly-trap vagina,
she lie in wait,
for the citizens of Red China.

Her parfumed hair,
smells of fragrant willows,
blowing tangled by air;

As I sit acrost and gaze upon her,
through the arms of a chair.

(Now we are {really} playing with fire.)

Dear Elvira, try and find me…