Poem - i have nothing / on my mind

i have nothing
on my mind

i am a pencil
and you are paper


))

Poem - in vivid denial for what they do

wasters should be filled with shame
paradoxically they are generous

like a wreckers great yellow
fire on a foggy beach

in vivid denial for what they do
utterly forsaking

after the comforting sight or sign
once embraced


**

Poem - There's no way to hold onto anything / good or bad

I think about you all the time

Everytime I think about you
it wears away a little bit at the memory itself

Because you are no longer here
the recollections are not replaced with new ones

So you are finite now

I keep remembering you
and eventually there will be nothing left

Like how ice melts into water

Then the water evaporates too

Sad about this, then giddy
how someday I won't even know you were here

By remembering
I am gradually eroding whatever ghost remains

Every trace of you is gone

I'll have that in my head too

There's no way to hold onto anything
good or bad



--

San Jose / Oakland
July 11 2014

Poem - st. francis never pays / never tips

st francis never pays
never tips
and never asks for anything
you don't want to give

try taking him
to breakfast or brunch
what do you think he
orders?

*
HB
July 3 2014

Poem - having no more / to ask for

for a year lived in fear and anger
being incapable of letting go
then just self pity of the revolting secret kind

the kind of sadness that one does not admit
and
instead tries to overcome through austerities
of the brutal kind bowing bowing bowing

a second year of inner nonsense
of hate of hurt of confusion
being incapable of letting go
more austerities more bowing
endless mantra

    let go
    let go
    let go

third year filled out papers
moved apartments
getting out of anger

hear the machinist next door
grinding rails

walk to the ocean
having no more

to ask for


++

HB
2014
July

Poem - like a star twinkles / and can't be sullied

standing in your gracious bathroom
or gracious house or gracious party
existing

like you are dressed by invisible hands
food magically appears of endless
varieties

i think of heads on coins or a ships prow
the figure that serenely braved any
calamity

looking out with a smile
beyond men and gods

like a star twinkles
and can't be sullied



.

Valley of the Minotaur Game Found -- Artwork

My dad saved it, my mother found it. I have a copy of Valley of the Minotaur. The disk looks good. There is a service in Tustin that can transfer the files.

Previous post about VOTM, with some background info on the game.

Dream Debate on the Properties of Rain

that night
it was simple
we debated on the rain

if it should fall up
or fall down

and how
evenly spaced
should the drops be

*

everyone
had a chance to share

and no ones
feelings were hurt


_

HB
Summer 2014

The Great Black Bird with a Pearl White Beak

"Birds fly in my windows, and tell me things. The little darlings." he said to me.

"So that is how you know what is going on?"

"Yes, I trained birds to go about and then come back and give me the news. I'm very proud of them." he said.

"How do you teach birds to go about and then come back and tell you things?"

"Oh, that is easy -- with rhinestones, bits of strings,  and snacks. Works every time."

"Anything unusual happen?"

"Yes, I have noticed that occasionally there extra birds that I did not train, that come by. A bit unusual."

"Occasionally?"

"Now and again. Hard to tell."

"Oh, and what are these birds like?"

"I can't generalize -- you see -- they tend to be very different, each one. The unique birds."

"Are they bigger than the birds you use?

"Well, some of them are bigger, some are faster, brighter, darker -- some are quite dangerous. You never know."

"And what do the special birds tell you?"

"Oh dear, I call then "non-repeaters". Because they never come back."

"And what do these "non-repeaters" tell you?"

"All kinds of things -- especially breaking news, sometime on things that are yet to have happened, or are happening far away. It can be upsetting."

"Oh, like how?"

"This very pretty small one, littler than a hummingbird came by just before you came here to interview me. And it told me."

"Told you?"

"That you are dead, you died yesterday. Freak accident."

And I tried to open the door to leave, and I saw he was right. And then the room seemed to be full of birds, and he was a great back bird with a pearl white beak.

Poem - nothing unusual was happening in my dreams / early before dawn

nothing unusual was happening in my dreams
early before dawn

i was meeting with bright beings and angels
and talking about the good things
that could be done today
over coffee in a diner


---

HB
2014

Poem - dust on the photos

dust on the photos
look like stars under the scanner
a blanket of them over
your bridal shower and triumphant wedding


---

2014

Getting Tube Socks in a Dream

We do this wrathful meditation practice for several days, 16 hours a day -- and I clean the glass cases that Dudjom Rinpoche and Thinely Norbu Rinpoche's relics are in.  And one night I dream that the wisdom deity, Troma, she's there in the room, you can't see her. But she is there.

I am sitting in the translators place, next to where the Lamas sit. People are coming up to me, giving me a single pair of black fuzzy tube socks, in a gallon ziplock bag. There are some shiny little candies or offerings in each bag as well.

I get about 600 or 800 of these offerings, or gifts. I have no idea what it means, but thank you.

----

Pema Osel Ling
Just after the First Day of Summer
2014

Poem - Waking the Innocent

i'm a stranger in my own life
the moon has burned down
 not the barn
and the barn is brighter
.

i'm a beggar cleaning cases barefoot
 apologizing to the saints
with sawdust falling on precious stupa maseratis
monuments covered in gems 
.

i'm a fool who wants to get lucky
an idiot who marches up and down the hills
 believing fit people
must have more faith
.

i'm the one praying at night or early in the morning
before dawn praying my heart out but finding 
 i just wake the innocent
from great dreams
.


**

but no trouble at all 
the moon comes back from nothing
 all the time 
over stalwart barns stuffed with treasure
&
never-mind what burns

---
.

Santa Cruz / Huntington Beach
Two Days after the first day of Summer 2014

Hundreds of Firefiles

That dark afternoon, it honestly felt like the world was going to end. Multiple thunder storms and tornadoes had touched down all around Oak Park. People locked their storm doors and windows to keep them from being blown open. He could see lightening stinking all around the building, every few minutes. The frame of the flat groaned. But he couldn't take himself away from the window, holding up the sash, seeing the wind blow things down the street -- of cars hurrying, their headlamps weak and indifferent. He would take a break, and lay down, then get back up and look out the windows more. Then it passed. Beneath masses of moving ragged clouds, the sun was low in the sky.

It was still steamy and warm. He walked into the backyard, the garden was huge and green. He saw hundreds of fireflies. A bit drunk, he almost saw them with the astonishment of a child. The wonder faded with the calculations of getting to a bar. Subtle, looming guilt.

------

Lombard Street
Oak Park IL

The Case of Beer

When he got sober, about 2 or 3 weeks into it, the neighbors downstairs had a party, and they left a half-open case of beer in the stairwell. The stairwell was enclosed. He'd walk past the half-opened case of beer for months afterwards, several times a day. The tops of the beers got dusty and white. He didn't drink. But he walked past that case of beer a lot.

---

Lombard Street
Oak Park
May 2010

My Life is Like a River

I did something important today, and when I had gotten it done, I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders, and a twinge or remorse. Realization came to me: I have a certain amount of immaturity, even in my mid forties. It keeps me from doing things, sometime important things. It has also caused me conflict and heartache. I can clearly see where it originates from, and it has to do with the way I grew up -- but my parents can't be blamed for it. It has to do with certain attitudes I chose to adopt, and forgot. I feel bad, in a way, I imagine it has been frustrating for my parents to see me making certain mistakes. My mom and dad are excellent parents. They gave me and my sister everything they could. The good news is, I have never appreciated my parents more. I love them more and more, the more I comprehend what they did for us. I'm terribly lucky. Or very lucky. I can see some of the things I kept hidden or denied from myself, and now I can actually do something about them -- or even act differently. Certain flaws of character. My life is like a river, and it is connected from one end to the other. But ultimately there is no end, or start.

The last miracle is to be able look at myself, see where I seem to be falling short, and not be angry with myself -- or with others. This has been coming to me as well. It takes some spiritual work to get there.  It comes from being less selfish towards myself and others.

---

BC HB
6.05.14

Poem - i have no idea / how i dream

i had a dream 

that it was raining

and the spirit house

which had a statue of dudjom

was in the woods in front of me

a long time ago i stood in woods

in front of a statue of dudjom

a house with magic eyes

of yarn and sticks

a plaything 

my dreams are

echoes of what has gone

before yet i did not comprehend

some say i dream to correct error

others say to learn from all

every single thing

like a wave 

my dreams will subside

or like a tide they could

increase

i have no idea

how i dream

*

Writing - You Won't Be Flying With That One

I thought it said "A Suede Lawnmower, Pulled by Crows".

How do you get crows to do that? They could grip the suede, I suppose. Big crows, too -- probably a hundred. That damn lawnmower could FLY. It would be a FLYING CROW PROPELLED SUEDE LAWNMOWER.

Then I see it is "A Selfmade Lawnmower, Pulled by Cows".

Which is good, too. But you won't be flying with that one.


__

HB BA
May 2099

Poem - it looks like i am dog paddling

when i grapple within the nothing to grapple
it looks like i am dog paddling
to god

even if god does not exist something beyond me
does note how i dog paddle
in the air

this thing i choose to sense is in my breath
in breadth width and height
sacred geometry

they built churches around it or hells
to encircle what cannot be
contained

it does the hokey-pokey jumping inside
and outside every thought or
feeling i have


____

BC HB
May 2014

Poem - when they said

they said when
someone who you put
in a position of trust
hurts you greatly

they should be
treasured like a guru

and i wanted to
cry and hate you more

but i didn't cry and
my eyes were dry and hot

later i meditated and
reflected on my endless
hypocrisy and how i am
stupid and useless

then i go back
to valuing you and others

who have insulted
and demeaned me

as the highest of
all & see what happens

---

To Chenrezig

Poem - this we dream

the only time
there is time
is when we are asleep

this we dream


***

HB BC
may 2014

Short Story: The End of Something

She leaves him with a burning hatred of hookers, strippers, pornography, and lying.

The End

*****

Thanks to E Hemingway

The Only Time

She turns to me as a sun sets behind her, through long venetian blinds.

"The only time it looks ugly, is when I cough." she says, a bit upset.

"Why do they call them venitian blinds?" I ask her.

She ignores me, sitting on the edge of the bed, and looks pensively into space.

I take a look around the room -- it is decorated from the 1950s.

Who is she, and how are we related?

How did I get here?

I don't know.

**

BC HB
5.23.14

Let's Get Honest

They said "Let's get honest." Then, later, they said "Nevermind."

Everyone felt much better.


**

BC HB
2014 5

I Have a Piano on My Ferris Wheel

I have a piano on my ferris wheel. When the piano is at the bottom, the wheel turns slowly. When the piano passes the top, the ferris wheel turns a bit quicker, as it descends.

Music can be heard, lyrically floating through the air -- it is a a bit faster when the wheel comes down.

People come and stare, and then ride.

A few stay, and play.

**

Bolsa Chica
HB 2014.5

A Bird Flies into the Room

A bird flies in the room, because I have no screens on the windows. The bird has a small pipe and a scarf.

"I like your scarf." I say

"Thank you" says the bird, and it twirls the pipe in its beak. "Do you have a light?"

***

Bolsa Chica
Huntington Beach 5.14

The New Era was a Sham

The new era was a sham, but the old era was just hyped up on guns and meth. Art was out and so was writing. If you couldn't see it or watch it, then it wasn't worth remembering.  But it was fun too. We wandered the burnt out huts of this land, and we gathered the shoelaces and MREs, and our violent forefathers had been eradicated by their own envy.


*

Cherry blossoms fell and the water took the blossoms and they floated on the pool like tiny boats.

*

I found an old book about the story of an Italian Knight who spontaneously combusted after drinking strong wine in the 15th century. I don't know what strong wine is. It sounds like medicine. That would be bad medicine.

Poem - impossible life / filling me with such joys

impossible life
filling me with such joys
visions i became
and built up i fell
and in falling i was built up
like a see saw
and what i saw i see
the ghost refelections
my heart still beating
like a drummer
of a traveling band
that never quit
and never found home
impossible life
becoming possible in
this surrender
this shedding
of predudice
towards reality
itself
but damn such
tears and moonbeans
and

---

for Latif
5.10.14

Peom - when he died he left a slip of paper/ and it said

when he died he left a slip of paper
and it said

if you're reading this and i'm gone
gone from the room

don't say i'm in a better place because
every day here was a heaven

and each time was new and pure
ending and restarting

besides i am not gone
i'm everywhere now

past present
and future

PS

you can have all my stuff


---

5.07.14

Poem - Since Newton

More poetry from my smart-phone

Since Newton
I've sincerely believed

Every apple has
a great invention in it

And every idea
is edible too


-- Alcatel Phone

My Phone has the Soul of a Poet

I've been letting my phone text for me, by accepting all the words it comes up with for "auto-complete" when I type things.

 

I see my phone has the soul of a poet. Today it wrote:

 

 

Give me just a little more time
to get along with the moment

Because I'm not planning
on going anywhere else



Lovely.

 

Now Everything is Made out of Box-Tops

I wake up in the morning, and I see everything is made out of box-tops. Reality has this slapped-together-box-top yieldingness. Did I just write that word? Yeildingness. Like everything you can touch and walk on, is made of layers of sandwiched box-tops. Naturally, due to this, everything is slippery and springy. I see that there are some very valuable coupons printed on the firmament of this alternate cosmos. I'm rich! I hope the Universe never converts back to unvarnished molecules and the brutality of naked atomic structures.


--

Quail Box-Top Meadow
Box-Top Irvine, CA Box-Top

I Dream of a Celestial Realm

I have a dream I'm in a Celestial Realm, everything seems to be made out of crystal. It is a place of palaces, and exquisite gardens: petals seem to be falling from the sky. I'm minding my own business, when a tall beautiful woman, like an angel, bumps into me and I bang my head into her boobs. I get very shy. She laughs because she sees how innocent I can be.


-

Doing Errands in My Dream with the Red Bull of Death in the Passenger Seat

I have a dream that Death and I are driving around in my white Land Rover, in Corona Del Mar. In the dream, Death is personified as a small red bull. He sits in the passenger seat, because he is tired and does not want to drive. Death wants to relax and look out the window as I do my errands.

The first place we go is to drop some books off at the new Library. The Newport Beach Main Library is very nice. Everyone likes going there, even to just have a cup of coffee. The sun is shining and you can see Catalina Island.

Later, when I'm done going about my business, I drop Death off at his house. He is very happy that we got to drive around and see things, and we had a nice time together.

-----

Irvine
4.27.14

I wish I had a ON/ OFF switch

Going into a universe without switches and buttons, I miss those. I have a screen activated phone (yeah we all do now) and the phone is constantly ending up in "silent" mode. I wish I had a ON/ OFF SOUND switch on the body of the phone. Then I could set it ON or OFF and know if the phone was going to be audible when I need it to ring, and silent when I want it to be silent. Because right now about 90% of the time it seems to be in "silent" mode no matter what I do.

>

Notes

The patient says that he believes he has had contact with himself in the future, where in some undetermined year, he has discovered the secret to time travel.

Correction: The patient says that he has been given the secret to time traveling.

The patient says that it is not time traveling, it is leveraged quantum movement. Mental?

The patient says we are only able to do this if a future self decides to share this information in any one of the innumerable universes that exist along side with one another.

Every dog has his day.

Patient is constantly taking notes as to what time things are happening, significant things -- to attempt to leave a trail of documentation for his future self to find.

Patient requests that these sessions be documented as much as possible, with as many copies as possible being distributed out in the widest geological area possible.

Poem - Hearing Children Playing

I listen to imaginative children
at play

they quarrel and yell at each other
easily cry

or just as soon change their minds
and are joyful

*

Adults are exactly the same
but we hold it in


*

for Jñana

Poem - with a smile forward

with a smile forward
everything comes into the day

people are not strange
because everyone is welcome

nothing seems awkward
or regrettable because it is embraced

as soon as it happens
room is made for it -- no issues

in this way tension
can't coil up or be cold & bright

and anger can't be
luxurious with memories

instead the outcomes
keep getting interrupted

and you're on your toes
going with the flow with a smile


**

Poem - The Child Who Lives a Life as a Man in a Dream

I dream of Dudjom Rinpoche
who I never met in life
which is interesting

He tells me many things
and I cannot remember them *

But I remember he told me
of a lively story he wrote
"..written by a child who
lives a life of a man in a dream..."

I bowed to him 3 times
and woke up 5 30 AM

for Jñana
4/5/2014



* I think he said we make errors in our mind like children at play, as innocent and enthusiastically as this, with no malice

Poem - when it rains I imagine amataba

when it rains I imagine amataba
crying with a hundred thousand eyes

when the wind blows I imagine amataba
waving with a hundred thousand arms


+

Poem - death can be the end / of a mighty dream

death can be the end
of a mighty dream
put into a small box

but there from there
who can say for sure
if the dreamer stops

just imagining now
in a different guise
as a drop in a cloud

becomes a snowflake
ghostly vapor
or a single tear



**

misread from the internet

Poem - he plays the guitar with his feet

for Mark


he plays the guitar with his feet
hammering out a song or strumming a ballad

and later the young girls who are drunk
laugh like it is christmas morning
sophistication forgotten and they dance

their boyfriends
get really pissed at the guy
who can play a guitar with his feet

crescent moon in the sky blues slide guitar
more drunk people enthralled
at his strumming that instrument
just with his toes

*

end of evening
bags in the car and amp in the back
he's off to santa monica tomorrow
but he might come back
in a month


--


http://www.markgoffeney.com/index.htm

LB
4.3.14

Yahoo, Facebook -- You're Nasty and Gross (and Racist!)

It is getting more difficult to live a non-disgusting life online. I guess proposing to the living of any kind of "life" online, I'm primed for the punishment I deserve. But I'm tired of the ambushing, antagonistic themes from the advertising leading portals like Yahoo and Facebook approve.

It might even be inevitable, being outright repulsive was the way things would go for the advertisements clogging the navigation sidebars. If you're going to get something less than a penny per click, you're going to need to do something provocative to make $$$ from millions of eyeballs.

But it would be nice at least to have an experience online that is free of multiple ads that promise to increase my penis length, or to have an affair.

Or have a online life that isn't sprinkled with super-disgusting close up pictures of fruit and nuts that will enhance my libido.

Or have ads that display in a pulsing visual way, gaping seniors with no teeth, dancing trailer-park trash, or people looking suicidal with charts in the background. It starts to feel like I'm participating in a sinister psychological evaluation.

I'm also not interested in keeping up with the news, and this is a double (even triple) challenge -- because advertisers hoping to sell shit online like to combine gross images, with the news, and then twist it with some kind of latent sexual innuendo.

Yahoo, Facebook -- you're nasty. You're gross.

(..and Racist! Yeah! I know the president of the United States is Black and so is the first lady. Thanks for the tea-party hit ads / conspiracy garbage too.)


*

Poem - Hokusai

son of a mirror maker
to a shogun

changed his name
at least 30 times whatever
he was working in

one name new
like a fresh kimono

carved prints of
lakes mountains whores
and actors wind waterfalls
and sex and fires in the snow
mt. Fuji and a sea
that would kill
ghosts

the outlines
of cranes in autumn

pieces of paper
blown over
to the moon

then back
to the earth


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hokusai


*

Quail Meadow
Spring 2014

Poem - Unplugged

I stopped watching the news
reading the newspaper
listening to the radio

It was too hard, plus
my culture was out to get me
or drive me crazy with lust
or worry

And I don't condemn my
surroundings and I don't condemn
lust or worry nor my
culture

I don't have to pay attention
if I don't want to


a.

I can actually see my surroundings
and know what time of the day it is now

b.

Now, often when people speak
their words sound like poetry




*

Poem - is it possible

is it possible
to be as silly as the moon
or as unserious as a star



***

Poem - A Man Wanting to Be Alone

at first unaware of me
he drags a stick on the trail
creating a line

he'll wack at the weeds too
and wave at the air
like fencing with ghosts

at the top of the second hill
he stands by the path
waiting for me to pass

he has a half smile
on his face looking into
the distance like it was a joke

and i know if i
were him i'd wish i wasn't here


---

Dusk
Quail Canyon Loop Trail
March 2014

Poem - while he played the guitar

these astonishing stars appeared
like music -- hundreds of them with no strings
attached

while he played the guitar

and people walked by and didn't stop because
you need to be on time

but we had nowhere
to have to get to because it was time for
guitar music played just then

even if it was just a bit cold
who cared?


----

3.27.14
outside of Cherry Moon and Mystic Arts
Laguna Beach

Poem - when you forget / you don't remember

when you forget
you don't remember

but i'll remember you
for a long time

like a knife in the back
or a pet that died


*

TONIGHT! "Free Poetry Thursday" in Laguna Beach

TONIGHT! "Free Poetry Thursday" in Laguna Beach at A.I.R. Gallery

658 South Pacific Coast Highway -- between Cleo & Legion.

5.30 to 8.30 PM.

Come by and get a little paper boat with a poem in it. Happens every Thursday!

Poem - we ride our lonely memories / like trusted steeds

we ride our lonely memories
like trusted steeds
until one day we see where they take us

so on this day I hope
you celebrate one year solidly
afoot


----

from the canyon club
3.26.14

Any Buddha Can Be Like a Flame

"Cultivating Buddha, or enlightenment, think about cultivating something like fire. With the right circumstances of action and mind-set, fire, or enlightenment, can appear. Both are manifestations inherent to reality, but enlightenment transcends reality. As with a state of firelessness, it may seem that Buddha is not here, but any Buddha can suddenly appear as readily as a flame."

       --  Charles-Paul Straube

*

Poem - Reprise

i dreamed of the damned
ignorant they are in hell
accepted the suffering

and in these conditions
even hell-beings
dreamt about love


_


i der Verdammten geträumt
ignorant sie in der Hölle sind
akzeptiert das Leiden


und unter diesen Bedingungen
auch hell-Wesen
über die Liebe geträumt

Poem - she cries / her relationship is ending

she cries
her relationship is ending
and why why?

it is everything
in the world to her everything
and more

what can you say
buck up what doesn't kill
makes you strong?

some people
fall down and never
get back up


*

i dreamed that being in hell
you don't think you are in hell

you accept the suffering
like it is normal

and even hell-beings
dream about love

Poem - in the middle of the night / i look up the word 'knowledge'

in the middle of the night
i look up the word 'knowledge'

i translate it
into three or four languages

latin german
spanish

the screen on the phone
is very bright

it hurts my eyes





**

Spring
Quail Meadow
Irvine 2014

300 point Smiley

Here is a 300 point smiley at 72 dpi. Enjoy.

"I don't listen much to what I think...."

"I don't listen much to what I think -- it is like investing in a business that I know is bankrupt, run by a CEO that I know is a liar."

        -- Charles-Paul Straube


____

FREE POETRY THURSDAY - LAGUNA BEACH

TONIGHT! "Free Poetry Thursday" in Laguna Beach at A.I.R. Gallery

658 South Pacific Coast Highway -- between Cleo & Legion.

5.30 to 8.30 PM.

Come by and get a little paper boat with a poem in it. Happens every Thursday!

poem - walk at dusk / on the hill

walk at dusk
on the hill

a moon rises
window lighted

the sky kept going
higher and higher

into stars without end
into memory

*

for Alexandra
3.13.14

Moop Frog and Chung Tzu

I saw a frog and I listened to it.

It said, "MOOP."

"You should be croaking." I said.

The frog said, "MOOP."

"CROAK." I said.

The frog said, "MOOP."

I made a note to tell someone what I have seen and heard, if I saw a certain person (or persons).

*

Later I saw Chung Tzu, dragging an old chicken bone down the path on the end of a dirty string.

"I found a frog that goes "MOOP"!" I yelled out when I saw him.

"Indeed!" said Chung Tzu. We sat down on the side of the trail in the shade.

"What's with the chicken bone on the string?"

"Oh, that? Ha ha ha ha." Chung Tzu laughed. "You noticed it? I've been dragging that thing around for at least a year."

"You have not, I would have noticed."

"Really?" laughed Chung Tzu.

*

Walking back, Chung Tzu is dragging the repulsive chicken bone on the string down the trail, enjoying himself. People are tripping over the string and getting mad at us.

"That chicken bone on the string is disgusting and a hazard to others!" I said. Chung Tzu laughs.

We come to the place where the frog is, and we listen.

"MOOP." says the frog.

"MOOP." says Chung Tzu.

"MOOP!" says the frog.

"MOOP!" says Chung Tzu. "OK -- here's a rotten chicken bone on a string."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"The frog insists!"

"Since when did you let frogs tell you what to do?"

"MOOP" says the frog.

"I don't know what it is about him, but that frog is totally persuasive!"

Then before either of us can react, a great white heron swoops down, and spears the frog through the body and flies away. We both wordlessly watch it fly off into the distance.

Chung Tzu winds up the chicken bone on the greasy dirty string.

He gives it to me.

"Sometimes if you go MOOP too much, even if its is right --  you can get carried away."


----

Quail Hill
3.10.14

Poem - that money or fame / can't get

i

two boys from new york
in many ways just two ordinary boys

we became superstars
i was destined to be the 'lesser' of the pair

i knew it was going to happen
we talked about it  - thems are the breaks

we were on our way up
whoever was more famous who cared

two kids who saw the same garbage
the same old leaves the same cabs and snow

two guys who made out
with the same kind of girls from a café
or from a coldwater pad

friends envious
bullies too

lemony sky the limit
just like a lemon

ii

but later i hated you
how far you had gone

you have a look in your eye
like you know god better than i

and i know a little less
of who goes about as god now

then fuck you saw me
and you knew

iii

we stood aside out of the glaring lights
separated from the shoving screaming fans

you looked at me enviously
in my oily sweater

my freedom of
anonymity

than money or fame
can't get

iv

we parted
i walked
home

you can't

home is
gone


-----

Meaning? Then?

More Zen stories:

Once here were two brothers who decided to become monks. The older brother was the smart one and the younger brother wasn't as quick, and he had only one eye. They started a little monastery high in the mountains where they grew up.

They were doing ok, but it wasn't always easy to have enough to eat. Plus there was always a wall to fix, or a roof to patch, and the temple was rickety and the wind blew through the walls in the winter. Then times began to be especially tough -- there was a famine, and a war had started.

One night, after a very long day of taking care of things, a wandering monk dressed in rags knocked on the door of the monastery.

"I'd like to have an interview with the abbot of the monastery," says the shabby monk.

When the older brother heard this, he was depressed because in his mind they were having a tough time feeding the other monks at the monastery, and this monk dressed in rags would just be another worry for him. If a wandering monk could to defeat the abbot of a monastery in debate on Buddhism, they could stay.

"Tell him to wait in the vestibule of the Temple, and I will be down to see him." said the older brother. Then he turned to his less-smart younger brother, missing an eye.

"I'm too tired to debate this wandering monk, so you'll go in my place. Do your best, and because you aren't as smart as me -- tell the monk you want to do the debate in silence. I'll wait in the courtyard."

The younger brother agreed, and he walked down to the Vestibule where the raggedy monk was waiting. The older brother sighed and figured it was a lost cause, his younger brother wasn't a debater and they'd have to find a place for the monk to sleep.

By the time the older monk got to the courtyard, the monk in rags was already there and bowed to him.

"Well, I'll be on my way. Your brother monk has a deep and sublime understanding of the Dharma -- he is really quite amazing!"

"Please tell me what happened!" said the astonished older brother.

"When your brother monk appeared in the Vestibule, he motioned that he wished to do the debate in silence, and so I agreed. I started the debate by holding up one finger -- there is one truth, the holy Dharma."

"And then?"

"Your bother quickly held up two fingers!" laughed the wandering monk. "The second truth -- there is the Dharma AND the Sangha. You can't have the teachings without the community of people that practice it."

"Then what?"

"I of course held out three fingers! There is the Dharma, the Sangha, and the Buddha. We cannot have the first two without the addition of the one who taught -- this is the third truth."

"Then?"

The raggedy monk laughed. "Brother monk instantly held up his fist to me -- in my face -- he is really quite good! There are the three truths --  the teachings, the people who follow the teachings, and the sublime teacher -- and they are undeniably, primordially ONE! At that point the debate was conceded. Brother monk had won. I got up and left, and so I will be on my way now. Thank you for the sublime fortune to have such a wonderful elucidation of the Way."

After the monk had gone out the main temple gate, the older brother re-entered the courtyard. There he ran into his younger brother, who was clearly quite agitated.

"Where is that wandering monk! Where did he go!"

"What do you mean?" asked the older brother.

"I'm going to beat the shit out of him!"

"You won the debate!" said the older brother. "He's gone!"

"What debate? There was never any debate!"

"Please tell me what happened!" said the astonished older brother.

"Fine! What can I say? So I go down to see this monk and when I get to the vestibule I don't like the look of him -- he looks like a criminal or a common thief in those rags, but the rules are the rules -- and we'll have our debate. I bow and he understands the debate will be without words. Then he starts off being totally insulting!"

"How so?" asked the older brother.

"He holds up one finger. The nerve! He's saying I have only one eye. So I immediately hold up two fingers."

"Meaning?"

"I'm saying, see the good circumstances for him to have two eyes. I am not so fortunate. Then the bastard goes and holds up three fingers! Three! And I know what he's getting at: Between you and me, we only have THREE eyes."

"Then?"

"I was ready to punch him -- then he suddenly bowed and ran away!"
---

Written from recollection from a collection of Zen stories from Paul Reps

Noises

One night, I’m having a hard time sleeping. I toss and I turn.

In the middle of the night, I hear a scratching noise. I get up and open the door of my bedroom.

“Was that you?” I ask Chung Tzu, who is in the living room, sitting on the couch.

“Not really.” says Chung Tzu.

I close the door, and I lay back down. When I am just about asleep, I hear another noise.

I open the door, and Chung Tzu is there, sitting on the couch.

“Did you hear that noise?” I ask Chung Tzu.

“Not really.” says Chung Tzu.

So I go lay back down in the dark back room, and I stare at the ceiling and my back hurts and I’m tired and frustrated and confused at all these noises I think I am hearing.

Then, sure enough, right as I forget everything and I fall asleep, I get woken up again – it is maddening!

I storm into the living room, Chung Tzu sits unruffled on the couch.

“Why are you here right now?” I yell at him.

“Thank Goodness! I thought you’d never ask!” laughs Chung Tzu.

----

Quail Meadow
March 2014

Poem - Weeping in the Garden of Eden

what is tragic is that i think there is tragedy in this world
as if you'd be in the garden of eden and be crying your heart out
because there is too much beauty and not enough ugly

**

was ist tragisch ist, dass ich denke, es ist die tragödie in dieser welt
als hättest du in der garten eden sein und weinen sie ihr herz heraus
weil es zu viel schönheit und nicht genug hässlich

Poem - Zippertop Clone Shoe

you strike a pose
the world is dying behind you
wrapped in lights


----

Zippertop Clone Shoe
2012

Poem - Stupid

a stupid non sequitur
or a joke as you go out the door

i have nothing for you
it is over

like i'm back in high school
or junior high

bending backwards into nothing
saying it is okay

is it because i lack
courage or character

yes to even suggest so
means it is so

but also not at all

*

you can look at a closed door
for a long time

look at it for a few years
and be saying the whole time

what a stupid fuck
to be looking at this door

Poem - resolved/ important/ critical

resolved not to think of anyone not in front of oneself move to someplace where the weather is more interesting

important to not write run on sentences and to use punctuation to sleep like a lion and to be as strong as a lamb

critical to have a good heart thus to move mountains higher or lower and to occupy the summit of ones desires joyfully for once


-----

Duly Noted

Quail Meadow
3.06.14

On Top of the Refrigerator

I've been thinking about this one a lot lately. I try to remember things that happened a long time ago, when I was little. I remember one time, my mother had to go do an important errand, something that had to be done right away. I think I was about 4 years old. She had never left me alone, so this was exciting for me, and a little bit frightening. But I was more exhilarated than scared. When she was gone for about 15 minutes, I managed to break a soda bottle in the garage -- it just fell over when I walked by it and broke! It has a mind of it's own! Then I got onto the top of the refrigerator in the garage so she could see me when she drove in, so she'd be so proud of how dependable I was. I waved at her as she pulled in, and she saw me, but she didn't wave back.

-----

On Top of the Refrigerator
San Diego
1973

Birdhouse

Gozo is angry, so he decides to build a birdhouse. He gets some wood that he finds in the backyard and beats it with nails and a hammer. Ella sees it.

*

Gozo is angry, so he decides to build a -- nevermind. Fuck Ella.


*

Gozo dreams of being a birdhouse.

                              > Gozo träumt davon, ein Vogelhaus.


*

Gozo is angry, so he decides to build a birdhouse. He gets some wood that he finds in the backyard and beats it with nails and a hammer. Ella sees it.

*

Gozo lays under several broken looking birdhouses. The grass is cool, and moisture starts to seep though his pants.

Several birds have been interested in his birdhouses. One little finch is living in the smallest, most broken looking one.

*

Gozo goes to the hardware store to buy seed. Ella spies on him at the hardware store by the booms.

----

Oak Park
2014

Poem - to be an illusion/ that can help

in the night
i wake up in acceptance

no sleep
i listen to mozart

serenade in B flat
the horn

i hear it
transform the melody

the room
becomes mysterious

scale of things
big or small all the same

i sense
how we are here

stokes of
sundering lightening

mirages
of fantastic cities

or bubbles
colliding together

*

what a blessing
to be a illusion
that can help


----

Quail Meadow
2014

Poem - i can feel the happiness of others

i feel angry
it settles in

then i see
two little boys
with their father

gosh look
at those kids
they are shouting

they are stamping
in the rain puddles

dad lets them
shout excitedly and splash

they are so happy
and excited to be
jumping in the water
as it is raining

they are alive
and in the moment
and all there is

rain boots and a prefect
afternoon

i've turned my life
into something i don't know

but i can find my way out
of this by seeing things

and being grateful
i can feel the happiness of others

---

Irvine
end of feb 2014

Poem - The Golden Gate Bridge Prayer

make me a channel of thy
golden gate bridge

where there is darkness let me bring
san francisco golden gate bridge

oh master grant that I may never seek
golden gate bridge

and in dying we are born to eternal
san francisco golden gate bridge

or Alcatraz island

---

Poem - The Wish Fufilling Tree

a whole mighty tree that dispenses anything you want was moved in
and then was also simultaneously moved out
with stars twinkling and music being played
and a thousand dancers
with paper lanterns and party favors
snacks drinks lovers raised from the dead
.
.
.
but the time limit was hit
with some strong reverb and feedback
on to other things


----

Winter 2014

Poem - THIS NOW

to love without attachment
and make it possible to have compassion
without being taken up my momentary anger or disappointment

seeing all things as momentary
in transition from one revived (or unperceived thing)
THIS NOW like pops from pop corn or bubbles from a squirt gun

a waterfall of jewels and magic tricks and people and animals
all together in a waterfall of of


----

for Jñana

Poem - Just a Memorable Fancy

it is insane to look for saints in only one house or tree or field
where a saint appeared before and nimbus

angles and mahasiddhas are not herded and when they speak
the virtuous ignore them

so if you want to find the saviors at work this day today
the high ones your grandchildren and their children will pray to

go somewhere that turns your stomach and you feel angry
give your life away to people who seem useless
radically fritter away your promise and your talents
pour your treasure down the toilet for others
slave in the name of  others and have not a grain of thank you
work work work with no imagination of reward
die every day and live again for the next day helping
keep dying by helping others
kill all your ideas by washing dishes mopping slopping
pick yourself to the bone by giving

* * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * *
* * * *
* * *
* *
*

amen
om mani pademe hung
thank you
amen


----

For William Blake

Quail Meadow
Winter 2014

Poem - Buddha or a Bodhisattva in an AA Meeting

i.

he's a buddha
he is upsetting
he stinks

people recoil
disgusted
even angry

if he isn't a buddha
he's a bodhisattva
dirty and laughing

with a backpack and
a odious blanket

he smiles
and sips coffee

out of the rain
in an AA meeting

ii.

then i remember
the stinking gypsies
in venice

on the vaparetto
angels

and the maniac
meditating on
market street

in SF
mahasiddha

i have been
wrong about it all
my vision

my outlook
my seeking comfort

desire for
pleasantness

iii.

are you
resolved with me
to gain enlightenment

and bend a nail
or be hungry

or even smell
funny




----

Canyon Club
Laguna Beach
2.27.14

Poem - jñana / before it rained

jñana
before it rained
the atmosphere was dark and hovering
all these crows started calling calling calling

then it was bright




---

Quail Meadow
2014

Poem - i wished to/ they said

i wished to

forget and then forget
the forgetting

mind it in dreams
only occasionally

never with regret or
with sorrow

they said

your heartbreak
and remembrances

keep you from
being in endless ignorance

without real courage
or any faith


---

to Jñana
just before it started raining

Poem - so / thank you / i have no complaints

\ when it comes
it seizes me

with gentle hatred
i settle into contemplating

i catch myself

i need to pray
or hate some more

so i choose prayer

will it make a difference
 i don't know

i've been told it does

so

 thank you
i have no complaints



---

for Jñana

Quail Meadow
Irvine

 

 

 

in memory or remembering offhand
or when it comes
.
when i settle into contemplating
with gentle hatred
.
this is when i catch myself
with some regret
.
i need to pray or hate some more
so i choose prayer
.
will it make a difference i don't know
i've been told it does
.
so here i go
thank you i have no complaints
.
.
.
---
.
for Jñana
.
Quail Meadow
Irvine

Poem - blinded by waywardness / by stupidity

blinded by waywardness
by stupidity

but the fool in foolishness
is so holy

when truly a view innocently
spontaneous

---

to Jñana

Poetry 2

"People who think Poetry is a toy, or harmless...these people are also immune to irony, they're unconscious of beauty -- as far as I can tell, they believe they will live forever in the body of a porn star."

    -- CP Straube

Poetry

"Many are motivated to write poems broadly about love and flowers, when the vehicle of poetry can carry anything else -- particular are pointed things, like menace, or fear. Poems can thrill your sense of beauty or the ideal, but also introduce to the reader subtle suggestions of disquiet, horror. The best poems do this double-take at the same time, or introduce to the mind opposing concepts, and you don't know it."

      -- CP Straube

Poem - none lost that wasn't gathered

I am the straining
I am the tears
I am
the inconsequential fears

You are the fading
You are the light
You also
walk inside the night

Like a bird that knows it way
or a word when right to say

Free from separate or together
none lost that wasn't gathered



----

2.25.14

Poem - Higher Up

feet mark the snowy field
you can see where you walked

how you held the gun
where you met the sunlight

how the rays slashed
into the blue shadows

halting from the treeline
and making the ridge stand out

there you opt to cross the fenceline
by bowing under the wire

in white winter sunlight
mixed with a gust of cold air

higher up you look back
to the valley of trees and field

and barely remember
how you got up here in the light


---

Bennett Valley

Poem - where a deer hopped

the river plunging cold
no words

water silver see through
fingers of ice

reflections beautiful and deadly
gem like white snow

black branches mark a spot
where a deer hopped

slipped and drowned



----

Poem - silly to think

there is an urgency in the hush
of a moment before
when the clock ticks or strikes
but it does not as expected

and after that time the mind
wonders will time keep going
or have i died and not know it

you might look and wonder
then the tick happens
or the timepiece chimes

silly to think
you were hearing and dead

but are you


----

Poem - by appearances appearing

universe lampooning itself
by appearances appearing

see a bubble or a house
flitting aimlessly or fully in flames

the moon or a hubcap
shining all night or shining in the light

referring to the referring
in that endless endless in turned way

see the softness of the fury
of each miniature perfect snow flake


-----


to Jñana

poem - flame looking for fire

if you look for it
you will never find it

in looking
it is like a flame

looking for a thing
called fire


---


to Jñana
2.23.14

TONIGHT ONLY - POETRY IN PAPER BOATS

Who does not like a little poem in a nifty paper boat? Especially if it is raining, like it was last night. I passed out all of them last night. Not one left. Now I go fold 15 - 20 more paper boats. Then next week, hand them out, with a poem in each for Free Poetry Night, Laguna Beach.

I Wave at Her

It rains in Laguna Beach. People aren't used to the rain. A lady almost runs me over in a crosswalk, while I am crossing with the walk signal. She is turning left, and she did not look.

She stops in the nick of time. At first I want to be angry, but I see she is so pale with horror, I wave at her. I can't be unkind to a lady like that.


----

Cleo n PCH
LB

Writing: Thank You for Asking

He writes every day.

Some days, someone asks him a question, "How is the writing going?"

He thinks about all the crazy writers out there, who scribble on old napkins or in the library with notebooks. Rooms, cold rooms, over-heated rooms, dark hotel rooms. He thinks about drunk writers in flop-houses and dive-bars, or even a nice bar on the Sunset Strip -- but never with much money. Some bars have a fishtank in them, where you can watch metallic blue and silver fish swimming around decorative multi-colored coral. He thinks about all the writers who never get asked this question. Cold big cities. Alleys. One way streets. Blank sidewalks. He thinks about writers who write, and nobody knows or cares if they write. He gets grateful.

"The writing is going good." he says. "Thank you for asking."



=

Writing - Have a Blessed Korean Day

It was a bit hysterical, getting used to the spell-checker on the new phone. But occasionally you can wish people a 'happy day' or also a 'Korean day', and when you say 'love right back' and it comes out 'love rightly back', doubly true.

And better yet, when he asked his phone, "Will I have a good day?" It didn't say aye, or nay -- instead it directed him to a website that suggested how to have a good day, in 19 steps, with pictures.

Oh wise phone. :  - )


----

Poem - Illusion is Yours

I have more flying dreams
-- the dreams are always the same:

I soar walking or skating on air,
amazing how easy it is.

All you have to do is believe,
and that illusion is yours.


----

Quail Meadow
2014

The First Dream I Remember of 2014

On New Years day, I wake up before dawn. It is 2014.

I realize I had a dream of my teacher who died in July of 2013.

In the dream, we are at the Dharma center in the Santa Cruz mountains, the place my teacher founded. It is just after dawn, the light a bit misty. We are in a field, and there is a line of people waiting to get a blessing from my teacher.

I'm three back, from the front of the line, and off to the side a bit so I can see my teacher.

The first people in line is a couple I know very well, they have given the last 20 years of their life in the service of this teacher.

It seems they want to give my teacher an offering, some mark of special respect, but they don't have what they want to give to him. When I realize they are non-plussed, I go to them and say, here is something you can give our teacher.

I take off my mala, and I give it to them -- I tell them this mala was the last thing I possess from our teacher, that he blessed with his own hands.

Our teacher puts the mala on, and the couple begs him for a blessing.

Our teacher says "Of course -- I have a good one! A special one!" and with a huge smile on his face -- the biggest radiant smile I've ever seen, he grabs the bottom of the mala and rips it downwards and breaks the mala so all the beads on the top fly through the air.

The whole mala is falling to the ground, I dive to the feet of my teacher to grab the beads before they get irretrievably lost. I grabs some beads and I see ringsal is there too, so I have some beads and ringsal.

Then I vividly see my teacher kneel to the ground over me, seizing my wrist. I look at him, and he is about 35 years old, young and strong and smiling. His grip is very strong.

"What are you doing?" he asks kindly, intently.

"Its okay! I'm gathering the beads so your blessings won't be lost for all of us. I've broken this mala before, and I don't want to lose any more beads."

My teacher smiles, happy to hear what I said. He looks up, still kneeling over me, and says "See, all of you -- what an excellent practitioner this boy is."

When he says this, I begin to cry, because I would rather have my teacher back and well and alive -- than have this dream where my teacher says such shocking things.

Movie review of Michael Mann's "The Keep"

Review of "The Keep", a 1980s horror movie written and directed by Michael Mann, who also directed Miami Vice: "A great movie to watch, while sorting mismatched socks."


.

The Italian Monster Truck Racing Association -- Rally at the Vatican, 2014

My son last night attended a monster truck rally in Angel's Stadium in Anaheim, CA. A good time was had by all. Interesting, I found out today that the Italian Monster Truck Racing Association  / Italiana Truck Enorme Fraterna Groupo (ITEFG)), has announced a new monster truck racing series that will be scheduled, tentatively at the Vatican, for later 2014. Scheduled in historic St. Peter's Square, to appear will be the terrifying "La Santa Famiglia" formerly known as "Incitatus", now sponsored exclusively by the Holy See -- thus the new name. Also in the competing, "St. Peter" (formerly known as "Hell Crasher"), "St. Paul" (formerly going by the name "Ravenna Revenge") and a small FIAT monster truck renamed "Lamb of God" will all be appearing for this epic first-ever racing challenge. Details to follow, when they are known.

Writing - Oh, Pamela!

He received an email the other day, from someone he didn't know. From "Pamela Monarrez", the subject was, "Frankly speaking...I WANT YOU!"

Oh, Pamela! Vivid images passed before his eyes -- of palm trees and figs with Pamela with dark eyes, living on sun-kissed beaches, earnestly waiting and lonely. Wearing a bikini and a little cowboy hat.

He clicked on it and followed the links, and he single handedly installed spyware on his computer and all his friends. And he knew what he was doing. He was looking for love in all the wrong places, even with Nigerian scammers.

But what if you did find love that way? Stranger things doubtlessly have happened. He kept clicking away.



.

1.11.14

Writing -- Nearly Identical

I envy my neighbors car, and therefore I hate my neighbor even more so.

He has a Aston Martin, Vanquish Volante -- he just bought it yesterday.

I know he watches what I buy, and he timed it to be right after I brought home my new McLaren 12C.

At 5.30 AM today, after some deliberation, I decided to take a dump on the windshield of the Aston Martin.

Outside it was cold, and foggy.

I got gingerly up onto the hood, and dropped my pants -- and while I was not worried about getting caught, my neighbor came out on the driveway.

"Hi." I heard my voice say calmly.

"Ok." was all he said.

He jumped onto the hood of my McLaren and copied me.

We shit at the same time.

We didn't say anything else as we both closed the front doors to our houses -- each with a near-identical view of a misty pre-dawn ocean.


*

After thinking about it -- I know one thing for certain: We all act like we know what is going to happen next, we act like we certainly know what the possibilities are.

But we have no idea what will happen next, whatsoever.

For all of it.


------

Southern California
Winter 2014

Writing - Rain

It rained a lot, all year round, and he drank to the rain. He'd be drunk, and it would be raining -- he'd sleep and hear the rain falling. The rain fell through things, through moonlight, sunlight, through holes in the eves. Dripping eves made him angry. A drainpipe was clogged with leaves, and the rainwater turned black at the foot of the sinking foundations of the two-story building he rented the apartment at. When it rained especially hard, the wall of the abandoned house next to the apartment would turn the color of tanned skin. Then he'd unsteadily turn on a light that should have shed an amber happy glow to offset this. The light was amber, it cheered him a bit, but then he forgot what he felt and the dreaming would start again. Two closets with curtains instead of doors leered at him, full of old papers and old boxes.


----

Oak Park
Lombard Street
2009

Writing - The Model from Brazil

Then there was the winter evening in the gallery in Laguna Beach, when the drunken Brazilian supermodel came in to look at the art.

"Are you gay?" she asked him, standing very close, looking at him.

"No, I am not." he replied.

"Oh. My friend is gay. He drives me everywhere." she said, swaying slightly, as if under water.

"Your friend seems to be a very good friend to you, to help you get around."

"Yes." she said. "Would you like to kiss me?"

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Would you like to kiss me?" the model said.

"Of course I would." he replied, and he held her and kissed gently on her cheek, next to her ear for a long time, swaying to a phantom tide.

She left with a few of his books and he never saw her again.



-----

Winter 2013
Laguna Beach, CA