lets write something positive…

there once was a man
he didn’t sit atop a can
he was not named stan
and he was not from khazakstan.

there are many things one can say
however none so many of them are as important
as

finding thy own direc—ction
positive loving action
the power to be
the power to feel
the ability to reel
in the logic that brings to you
what you — need

to be, happy
satiated
positively elated…

this is all within your own
grasp, however we’re taught the power
is external- what an—- infernal
lie.

this is inside,
and has always been,
within, the grasp of your mind.

flex the mental muscles,
a strong mind can become weak,
a weak mind can become strong,
never forget that everything-
is a dualistic reality, a’swing.

meditate.
meditate.
lather rinse repeat.
you will get the results you seek,
as long as you stay focused on what the things you wish for are,
and step with love and positive motion,
the universe will provide unlimited for you just like the waves keep coming out of the ocean.

hang in there !!

be the spoon- a poem about presence and action

##################

#poem ••• “be the spoon” •••
:::::::::::.:::::::::.::..::::::::::::::::……….:: ::

be the spoon,
bend the spoon,

dance at high noon…
Fill the glass,
Dance with class,
it’s your glass to fill,

so get up off of your ass!

These experiences and all things,
must be brought to you,
by you,
for you-

to live through,
to experience.
At last.

But you must show up to dance!
Otherwise, askance askew- where is the experience. for you?

Enjoy.
See you where the action is! //
http://tl.gd/gd4usf · Reply at Twitter

20120312-175037.jpg

“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,
Drones—-

Of sorts…

Yo!
The dawning of 2011 was welcome yet rather uneventful, yet ardvarks and antelopes await,
2012.

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

CHART!
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—
Someone….

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!

20110806-051524.jpg

“Elvira”

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…

Glancing at Pie…

Glancing at Pie:

Critically,
Pi . . .

Pine,
Thine,
Square root of Pi,
Equal to the speed of;

Gravity…..

Which leads us,
to a lost civilization,
but just now today—

Shows as,
a scattering,
of cunning monuments…

See then, the cleverness at Giza,
height over perimeter is Pi,
and it doesn’t cease there…!

The pyramid code,
is eternally transmitted,
and self contained,
by this monument;

Which speaks of Pi and eqinocital procession—

It’s mathematically,
astronomically,
actually, factually,
measure-o-metrically,
True and Correct!

Correct to the 432 decimal harmonic…
S-C-A-L-E . . . !
(of earth’s Northern Hemisphere.)
A 432,000 scale model,
of our planet;

An eternal bastion of grace,
mathematically brilliant elegance,
seemingly cut by lasers,

a paper does not fit,
between it’s massively, masterfully;

Sculpted;

Engineered blocks…

There are other eternal monuments,
scattered across the earth’s lands,

and one who’s mud, is visible still,
to one’s hands!

Become enraptured then,
in Pi’s in-Phi-nite beauty…

A message to behold,
a message from those like us,
who came before!

In days we’d truly describe as “yooooore.”

It’s written in bold,
Brazenly, to the tune of engineering marvels.

See Teotihuacan,
Giza,
Tenochitlan,
Tiahuanaco..

A memory continually arises,
of a bearded distant powerful man…
Call him Uncle Viracocha!

A whirlwind of misty memories,
distant yet close,
at heart we can learn to hear and feel,
what’s likely encoded in,
the fiber of our very DNA.

A collective,
woven in alphabet ribonucleic lettering,
a biologically kept,
historical record,
collected of and during,
our near past;

Human times.

All across our world,
remnants are found;

Stories of ancient times,
are recalled —

As we decipher,
assemble,
figure and re-tell…

The newly discovered,
age old tales of our relatives,
our ancestors!

Lives that have come,
and passed.

as the tree stands

oh silently strong glory,

within thee—

as I gaze upon,
life as a tree..

you do not run,
you do not fear,
you stand rooted;

Tall,
strong,
firmly in place-

Standing your ground,
Literally.

There is much to learn,
from the ways of the tree.

Fearless strength,
in silence.

Looks inside,
feels…

The breeze,
of awareness-

Blowing acrost-
the mental leaves;

That fall into..
your consciousness,
waters the foundation,
of your inner tree;

With each breath,
you realize,
you live,
you walk…

With the knowledge,
sown-

By rooting,
yourself..

To center-
As a tree.

Slide N’ Slither, Never Wither::

Slide N’ Slither, Never Wither:

Placate, Pleiades-

Globe trotters,
all of us.

The signal says,
to switch left-
in due time;

Let’s perfect,
our-

Meandering swagger.

A wandering…

Exploration,
of who, where,

and what,

Our feet,
wish us—

To greet!

In due time,
Such it shall be,

Walk with confidence,
C’est La Vie!

Eat a lunch with me,
and we’ll be,

with the band already marching.

Shall we,

Meander,
salamander?

Slither, slide, and flow,
one two three,

ready?

set…

Here we go!

untitled #1

Tomfoolery.

As we dance,
askance—

Akimbo.
Thou art always in limbo.

Razor-blades and ice-cream cones,
hydroplane amongst radio controlled drones.

Eat and chew,
I hear that perhaps celery is good for you.

Clarivoyant catchers,
babes in strollers,
do not next—

Hand them the controller.
Also, avoid turning on the tube,
would you?

//fin

old poetry found while cleaning (from Sept 11th, ’01)

Found this while I was cleaning out the catacombs
 --  otherwise known as a closet.  ;-)
I started writing this moments after I found out
about Sept 11th, 2001 - WTC Tower Attacks.
The poem was finished September 30th, 2001,
and is reproduced for you in it's entirety below ::
--------------------------------------------------

Life as it is fragile,
transient as slipping grains of sand,
slides and moves.
Do not forget love,
as it holds our memories of life's finest.
With love, they shall not be fleeting,
as our time here goes by.
Heed time.
Life yields to it.
Love binds life,
as love is eternal,
so is life.
--------------------------------------
The rest of the poem was added on the 30th
of September, and is below:
-----------------------------

Lucid tranquility,
the water lies.
Solid glass,
chilled ice.
Stretched- acrost a depression of ground.
Stoic yet expansive,
this is the way of the pond,
in the days of cold.
In search of life as embers glow,
smoke wafts through time and the infinite beyond,
and reminds-
of the warmness of the soul.
Hearts bleed,
sliver apart slowly by day,
quickly by lone night.
Blood from broken heart,
weigh down thy broken soul,
thy broken cry out upon the night,
screeching to all and any receptive.
No one listens.
Thy broken soul remains---
Shattered.
Crushed aluminum,
crushed dreams,
a fickle laugh,
hardly an afterthought,
from the mind of he who demolishes,
she who destroys;
All that was known,
and dear.
Bongos,
Guitars,
Instruments of freedom and expression.
Of unbridled passion.
Conveyance through message of simplicity,
and sonic purity.
Rolling from strings n' stretched surfaces.
Resonating and refracting through -
Our auras, and our consciousness.