Hand Me Downs

Bell bottoms
Ponchos
Head bands
Socks

Red Sneakers
Platforms
School Books
Locks

Yesterday
Found them
All in a
Box

Gifts for free
Gifts for me!

Aunt Hat and Red
Thank you
preacher, teacher
Too

And everyone
Whose come around
What do I owe
You?

Handkerchief
Mittens
Red scarf
Kilt

Prejudice
Red Scare
Swear words
Guilt

Politics
God fear
TV
Shows

Big Bible
Big words
Racial slurs
Foes

Apocalpse
Gossip
Scare tactics
Dread

Yesterday
found them
All in my
head!

Aunt Hat and Red
Thank You
preacher, teacher
Too

And everyone
Whose come around
What do I owe
You?

Lucky #7

The cure for cancer's
around the corner
Life'll be great
and a century longer.

When you crossover
from this physical state
God'll meet you
at the pearly gate.

Fulfillment for every need
Reward for every deed
Patience people, patience indeed!
Follow the shephard or take the lead.

Just a step more
one chore more
Just a test more
one high score more

Things'll be better than before!

Just have faith
in Lucky #7.

Desire' s desire.
To be filled another day
But while we're on the way
Bend down on a knee and pray.

Have faith you'll get things your way!
Yippie-tie-yie-yay.

Is that the ultimate plan
the ultimate promise or really the ruse?
Someday they'll open or bar the promised land
depending on what prophet you choose.

I'll take door number four!
Oh crap--it says I must live poor.
Should've remembered the path to health and heaven
Is always behind Lucky #7

Or how about six meals a day?
No smoking, drinking or acting badly
Yearly screenings and weird proddings
Or filling prescriptions madly

but sadly

Gotta wait til tomorrow to live forever.
Or pray that tomorrow you will live forever
Either here or there
somewhere there's a ticket to forever.

Every desire fullfilled
around the riverbend
Vestial virgins, sweet excursion,
delectable diversions

Someday
what's bad'll be good
if you act as you should
today

On this religion and science
completely agree.
Praise the blessed unity!
Of lucky #7

It Falls Away

I say this skin is mine.
What was it yesterday but a thought,
an impulse, that makes the flesh
restore itself?

Tomorrow, cells shall dry
and wither and rub off
what I call me.
Yet I will remain
for now.

Hair grows the length of a year
and roots show darker than the summer.
In spring, emmerging from the winter's cold,
I shall own hair long or short,
less or more, but different than
when summer ended.

Yet am I not me, still?
Do I remain still?

Nails and polish, teeth and gums
nose hairs, armpit fuzz
skin and stubble and eyelashes
found on the floor and in the bed.
Discarded without conscious effort.
Am I the food for bed bugs and roaches?
Have I left myself there,
and there and over there?

And what of my limbs more crooked with age?
What of those teeth and hairs?
What of my toes and fingers?
If tomorrow they fall away
Does that being I call "me" remain?

And of the senses that fade
Which one has to go to carry me with it?
My sight, my hearing?
Smell, touch, or taste?
Or that pulsing brain
that factory of reactions
that fades and forgets--
when does it stop holding the key
of "me"
together?

What cell
What fiber
what mineral
what spark
contains the essence
that heralds -- I am?

I am
It falls away.
I was
falls away.

The possessions
The riches
The body
The mind
fall away.

Impermanence.
It all falls away.
The ability to discern
some attributes
that make up
what I think of as "me"
ah! those things leave "me"
as a hollowed husk
of dried flesh.

So it is.
So then...
when is the definition
ever complete and true?

If I cast off the possessions,
the riches, the body and the mind
as I would effortlessly
let fall away the remnants of yesterday's
skin and hair
there
without the mind's thoughts
or hopes or fears
on the loss of "me"
what would be left
beyond the defining
and the undefining?

The omnipotent
omnipresence
of all
of nothing
beyond the essence
of the inessential
beyond what was or never was
or is or never is
or will be or never will be

The Uninviting Guest

She uninvited me
to my parent's home
One year ago
when the phone
rang

I sit here
thinking about
the pain and hurt
even the tiniest thought
of it
provides me

She hates me
I think
She wants to hurt me
I think
Have I offended
I worry
Did I deserve it
I fear

Mother says
it was mean
Dad keeps quiet
I rack my brain
trying to think
what I did
to feel this hurt

A year
ago
Yet today
I sit
And a year
ago is a long time

Looking inside
I see my library
waiting
and I ask myself
what book shall I choose
today?
Pain and Hurt?
Hatred?
Fear?

I leave those books
on the shelf
and go outside
as I look in

I go to the stream
as Ananda did
in the years
of Buddha

I gaze
I watch
The dust settles
and the stream
is clear.

I sit beside
my mind

A year ago
is dead to me
and I hold a hurt
that has no merit
for I look for
something in another
that I must find
yet again
in myself.

Today the Uninviting Guest
becomes a precious jewel
Would I make of
a blessed soul, a monster?
Then I disillusion myself
Perhaps she is laughing
and giving love
at this very moment
To someone.
And she has given me
a blessed gift
a precious lesson.

All is within
this moment
now

Find the center
and calmness
and where I am uninvited
is only as lonely
as the Mind.
My Heart
is open
and full.

This I have learned.

Homeless

Get outta my house!

I told you
don't go near that tree
impudent punks
lacking humility

pack your bags
hit the highway
no heaven here
you didn't do it my way

you hate my gifts
Yeah -you cover your flesh
with figs and branches
you look like a big mess!

you aren't my son
you aren't my daughter
may the devil take you
like a lamb to slaughter

get out of my house
get out of my kingdom come
you disobeyed me
impudent scum

I told you not to
but you did it anyway
saw you do it
as clear as day

so grab your free will
and your apple yummy
hope you choke on it
and it hurts your tummy

you climbed a tree
unbelievable!
ate the fruit
unforgiveable!

you aren't my son
you aren't my daughter
may the devil take you
like a lamb to slaughter

dont you cry
dont your weep
you aint my children
go suffer on the street

here's your stuff
little good it will do
pick it up from the mud
and take the snake with you.

dont you come knocking
and begging back in the door
idiot and whore
you dont live in
my kingdom come
no
more...

kids
they only cause trouble
better off
without them
their disobedience, so unloveable.

Meditation 001

I am here in this moment
and I am unafraid

I release my feet
from all stories of the past and future
I release my ankles
from all stories of the past and future
I release my calves
from all stories of the past and future
I release my knees
from all stories of the past and future
I release my thighs
from all stories of the past and future
I release my pelvis
from all stories of the past and future
I release my seat
from all stories of the past and future
I release my abdomen
from all stories of the past and future
I release my diaphragm
from all stories of the past and future
I release my ribs
from all stories of the past and future
I release my lungs
from all stories of the past and future
I release my spine
from all stories of the past and future
I release my heart
from all stories of the past and future
I release my fingers
from all stories of the past and future
I release my palms
from all stories of the past and future
I release my wrists
from all stories of the past and future
I release my lower arms
from all stories of the past and future
I release my upper arms
from all stories of the past and future
I release my shoulders
from all stories of the past and future
I release my neck
from all stories of the past and future
I release my throat
from all stories of the past and future
I release my tongue
from all stories of the past and future
I release my teeth
from all stories of the past and future
I release my jaw
from all stories of the past and future
I release my sinuses
from all stories of the past and future
I release my ears
from all stories of the past and future
I release my temples
from all stories of the past and future
I release my eyes
from all stories of the past and future
I release my forehead
from all stories of the past and future
I release my crown
from all stories of the past and future

I release my bones
from all stories of the past and future
I release my flesh and blood
from all stories of the past and future
I release my inner body
from all stories of the past and future
I release my outer body
from all stories of the past and future

I am here in this moment
and I am unafraid

This moment is now

Death may come in this moment
tho I am unafraid

For here in this moment

this moment
unafraid

here

now

(silence. release all thoughts)

Zero

If I begin
to tell a friend
a story
that means
something
to me

how many
distraction
and
lapses
in attention

are allowed
before
I properly
feel
hurt?

one
two
three?

If I restart
the story
with some
frustration
and a
friend's begged
apology

and the friend
listens again
with
half interest
does this
become
an insult?

how many
moments
of indignation
and
righteous hurt
have i
rightfully aquired?

one,
two,
three?

or is it four
now that
I have left unfinished
a fourth time
and carefully
let the story
fade untold?

zero

zero times
need I tell that story
zero moments
may I feel indignation

because there
is nothing
my friend
owes me
though I act
as if I must
have more

I am merely
trying to find
something
in my friend
that I must
find
in myself.

If I would hold
a moment of hurt
a moment of blame
against him
I have done a grave injustice

This I have learned.

Library Bipolarity

Word comes
that Gandhi has died
And yet
there is still love

Word comes
that Buddha has passed
And yet
bliss endures

there is love
there is hope
there is compassion
they do not belong to anyone
they are not to be owned
there is no exclusivity
there is no defining man
through them

Word comes
that Torquemada has died
And yet
there is still fear

Word comes
that Hitler has died
And yet
hate endures

there is fear
there is hate
there is anger
they do not belong to anyone
they are not to be owned
there is no exclusivity
there is no defining man
through them

each is
authentically powerless
like a book
resting impotently
upon the shelf

a book
ready to be read
on a sunny
or a rainy day

a book can tell one
what to do
but that choice is neither made
by the page
nor by the binding

it is only
what it is

like a book
to be replaced
upon the shelf
as the sun sets
upon the face

Layoff

I ask myself
What's all this
shouting
about
when
it is
what
it is

No more
No less

My Shouts
Justified
Undoubtedly
But mute
By ineffectiveness

Where there's
a will,
history shows,
sycophants
often
get their way

And workers
are "Good to go"
while
ClusterF'ers
are asked
to stay