dA dA Pooh-Pooh v. Paw-Paw dO dO
Two claws are embedded in the paws
Although they seem soft and cute at first.
Both parties dangle from your long arms
ready to strike enemies when you ring the bell.
As your tectonic social plates crack,
The beastly presence is out of sight.
Wild fear provokes paybacks
of violence day and night!
This is your Paw-Paw dO dO,
but who will challenge the vulgar laceration rules of such jungle games?
Nobody criminal enough--except for the cold-hearted fuzzy hypochondriacal self.
As the dA dA Pooh-Pooh Voter
I submit a ballot on behalf
of a man ineligible to vote due to his non-citizenship.
Voting is a holy ritual
in which the masses cleanse themselves
from the dictates of personal responsibility.
The foreigner who cannot vote uses me as a scapegoat.
She wishes to vote (for that which I would not vote)
so she pays me to do her will.
{ Non-voters won't call me a scoundrel:
voters with AnybodyButBush disease want my Kerry vote. }
I cast the votes of others
against my conscience
because that's what we learn to do
from the example of our politicians.
BUY MY VOTE!
Our corruption is mutual.
Many will call my selling the vote "scandalous",
But I'm simply following the spirit of electoral politics,
i.e. compromise and settle for solutions based in evil.
We voters for US President
Do not believe in taking DIRECT ACTION
To do the works of justice, mercy, goodness, and peace.
Judgement Day Technology
I recognize this person in her serious lotus position.
She's taking the discipline to heart, mentioning her stringent codes that
grease the skids to Nirvana or Pearl Jam or Lucky Strike.
New standards that don't relate to me.
We're in a cool green thin poplar forest with just enough sunshine
illuminating the simple, painfully slow conveyor belt with rustic metal braces & rails.
I feel goofy riding the machine--it's easier and quicker to just walk next to it.
But my former friend is carried by the belt too.
This familiar person must no longer face me straight-forward.
That's the rule.
Later there's an amusement park ride called
"Waxy Water" where the windy wetness twists all riders' faces
in grotesque suspended animation for
a
long
time... I can't believe people want that, but...
She says "pay attention."
The engraved instructions on the metal braces and railings
Explain the spiritual reasoning for the present divergence:
In the past decade I got too close too soon with five people
who looked me in the eye when I wanted to look into them.
Now my former friend,
comfortable with this rickety yet strong-enough transport,
is hereafter at a 33-degree angle--although these indirect angles of permanence
are only dyslexic statements about the angels.
A reckless and mischievous boy just playing ninja-flier rushes by.
Pausing to face me straightforward--but I don't want that responsibility
with a haphazard punk, now that I know THAT rule.
He's gone in a flash of course,
Completely unaware of the depth we just disrespectfully gouged.
And I forgot what the instructions at the beginning of this machine said.
I jump off to return to the beginning--alas the lettering is incoherent in dreams.
Resuming the belt ride I press forward into the next stage
While the farm mechanic man comes in to check on the conveyor.
I wonder if he knows that the end of the belt goes into another dimension.
I wonder if there's eventual pleasure in being with my guide there,
or if passing through that ethereal window where I can still see her from here
will mean that we are both already in the territory beyond this region.
A fretful suspicion:
will the maintenance man inhibit this metaphysical portal?
I would have been there already, but I knew I had to try to see those instructions,
For when I wake up I might forget, so it was worth the backwards effort.
Like holding tightly to candy or toys in the dream when I was 8 years old,
hoping they'll still be in my fists under my pillow when I wake up.
biographm
No Sunglasses? The Glorious Impossible Farm
Two decades ago I sought escape from pastoral fallacies:
Up the industrial ideal of
fast concrete rubber steel
glass chemical insulation
a million captives of communion
That buzz & jam pounds down our suburban grass roots.
( My opinion--but who are you? )
Now a desert pavement pedestrian I block sunlight the old fashioned way:
Eyelids DOWN five seconds; blink open; blind again for five seconds; blink.
The rhythm works even when a few other urbanites nearby walk.
( My belief? Less sun exposure enables good vision longevity. )
One bright August day
The straight narrow trajectory cuts across a foreign field of smooth green.
A perpetual well-manicured university campus lawn.
Two trees hang out somewhere who don't belong in THIS climate.
Before now the 10% open-eye policy simply worked
With no random wheels, birds, bullets or horses to dodge.
Legs move triple-speed--a new level of risk?
(Slow blinking stays behind.)--i'm ready for the challenge.
What THWACK on my forehead was that?
The low branch just started a THIRD eye.
The slap does not slow the jogging.
Sweaty stinging clues me in--
A central scab coagulates
We explore the opposite direction:
out of the master-planned land of little boxes & shaved plants
is the hearty consumption of SUB-RURAL photosynthesis
many factions committed
to good raw soil
enveloping our
knees and digging fingers.
This ancient clean work sends
lifesaving green currents to heart and spine.
( My guess--but where are you? )
Caught between the feast of compost-harvest and buzz-jam
I'm in a tired vehicle and you are grounded in thick air.
The Creator finds you greater than Clark Kent!
Your sisters gave you this strength
You've cultivated a gift
expanding human potential, yet destined to REVERSE Jack's Giant Ladder,
you have broken the law
with experience of RAW.
YOU have the power to bring
LIGHT and HOPE,
RELIEF and PLEASURE
To people who are STUCK in HELL--just for a minute--it's their job to get UNstuck.
How? In twenty years you'll know.
CHLiberation
The pendulum swings:
Inhale Exhale Inhale Exhale
Each switching of directional flow
occurs at the exact point of slow return
to the opposite extreme where the flow switches again
Inhale Exhale Inhale Exhale
Each apex point is a solstice window
never opened
to reveal tangentalizing universes where
angels dance to the ecstatic music
of your burning corporate clothes
and homegrown coffee.
Inspire Expire Inspire Expire Inspire
EXHALT and engrave
fantastic facts upon the rhythmic breathing valley floor
EMBOSS those same patters on the mesa's door
Your lungs liberate your conscious heart!
1000 Generations
In your eyes are 1000 generations.
Yesterday i gave away two kittens from the litter to the family running a bourgeois yard sale for gymnast kids.
When i was a kid, i was so desensitized that i never bonded with any family pets,
not even my Guinea Pig Zelda, nor my Curious kitten.
This emotional distance which resembles a kind of permanent shock with no extreme bliss or suffering
was fertile ground for the nascent punk rock ideology leaking into suburbia in the late 1970s as i entered my teens.
DOGdom vs. KINdom (anarchy)
Having a dog is like going to the moon and back.
Having three dogs is like going into orbit around the earth twice.
exciting? worth the cost? whose happiness?
Rejecting dogdom is simply one way to love Jesus.
A beloved family of humanity is based in justice for the anawim.
How do people of earth get sucked into a
space so grossly complex at the expense of other earthlings?
How can anyone such as myself find a heavenly home when
space tourists block the view of human utopia free from hierarchy?